


Pure Pleasure Seeker

by whatwasdead



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, TattooArtist!Steve, Vet!bucky, derogatory terms, meet cutes, mentioning of past abuse, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27959384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatwasdead/pseuds/whatwasdead
Summary: “Hey handsome,” he called over the music at Bucky who looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention. The raised eyebrows eased and Steve was sure he saw him rolling his eyes good-naturedly before he turned around fully, one of the dish towels hanging nonchalantly over his left shoulder, hiding the spot where normally an arm would be.“What can I do for my favorite customer?” Bucky asked, an easy smile on his lips as he leaned a bit closer, bracing his weight with his right hand on the counter.“Shh, don’t blurt it out like this or the people might get jealous.”Steve hated how much he loved this. He couldn’t even say when these banters between them started. One day Steve was helping Dugan paint the walls and then there Bucky was in all his glory, his laugh carrying through the nearly empty pub as he arrived with Sam calling for Steve’s full attention. There was a certain familiarity with Bucky that he couldn’t completely shake, as if Steve should know who he was.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 47
Kudos: 161
Collections: Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My contribution for the NASBB. Thanks to everyone who helped me along the way, the people who betaed and cheered me on. You guys have no idea how much I needed this. A special shoutout to my amazing artist [Koreanrage](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/). Thank you for your kind words, your amazing art, and for not giving up on me. 
> 
> You can find all of the art Koreanrage created for this story [here](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312/been-doing-stucky-bangs-for-a-few-years-now-and)

[ ](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312)

“Is Clint coming?” Steve asked over the sound of the needle, carefully guiding the machine along the lines of the stencil he had drawn on Natasha’s back just an hour ago to make them permanent.

Today had been a slow day. Neither of them had many appointments or customers who needed a consultation, so they closed early to give him time to work on the project Natasha had entrusted to him. 

Although Steve had to admit he was tired. Last night’s company had kept him up well into the night, even asking for another little romp in the sheets before he left to get at least a couple hours of sleep in his own bed. Still, he had to admit it was nice; the way the guy had pulled him back when he made his way to leave. They way he whispered in Steve’s ear how he could do with another good fuck was something Steve’s imaginative mind was indeed appreciative of. It was also a nice boost for his ego; not that he needed it, if his friends words were anything to go by. 

He stretched on the chair and moved his head from side to side, before putting the needle back to Natasha’s skin. Despite his tiredness, Steve was extremely diligent with his work, always wanting to surpass the expectation of the people he was working for. He always went the extra mile before putting the needle to his client’s skin. Especially when the canvas he was working on belonged to one of his best friends who was also the co-owner of the tattoo parlor they had opened together five years ago. 

“He said he’ll pick Wilson up and then head to the pub,” Natasha answered, head resting on her forearms on the massage table. Her voice didn’t show any signs of discomfort despite him working on her back piece for the past hour. Then again, her body was already covered with other tattoos from her cleavage to her feet so she was familiar with the pain that came with getting tattooed. “Why? You scared it might ruin your chances with your possible target?”

Steve smiled at her response as he reached for the paper towel to wipe the excess ink off the spot he was working on before he admired the progress he had made on the massive backpiece. The lines and colors were flowing nicely down the expanse of her bare back.

With a roll of his eyes he said, “Possible target. You definitely hang out too much at the VA.”

“And you definitely too little. You remember the mural you promised Sam? Which you still have yet to plan out, let alone start on?”

Steve started pressing the foot pedal gently, the buzzing of the tattoo gun slowly growing louder the more pressure he applied, a shit eating grin on his face. “Sorry, can’t hear you. What did you say?” 

“You little shit you know exactly what I said,” Natasha sighed, shifting just slightly on the table. “And don’t deflect.”

“I’m not deflecting.”

“Right,” Natasha said blankly, still unmoving.

In Steve’s mind, he wasn’t deflecting. He just didn’t want to have the same conversation over and over again. The thing with Steve was he enjoyed his life, if at times a bit too much. When he hung out with his friends, they spent the majority of their time at The Raunchy Leprechaun, an Irish Pub ran by Timothy Dugan and Bucky Barnes; two ex military vets who both had been screwed over and then some before they got back on their feet with the help of Sam Wilson, another friend of Steve’s. Their little group enjoyed the atmosphere at the Leprechaun. While it was homely and rustic as one would imagine an Irish Pub to be, it was also a place full of surprises. One night they showed up to a full on drag show, the week after it was karaoke, then a poetry slam after that. Dugan and Bucky both always came up with new ideas to keep their extended family happy because the majority of the guests were vets, a lot of them looking for a place to forget the things they had seen and been through for just a bit. 

And because of the variety of acts and diversity of guests, Steve fucking loved this place. Especially the guests. Because, to be completely and utterly blunt, Steve loved to fuck. Although fucking sounded harsh or even a but vulgar to a lot of people, to him it wasn’t. It meant passion and desperation and sharing a piece of himself with someone else; it was really the only wild indulgence his health permitted him to do. Other than that he didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he followed a healthy diet, and he got enough sleep every night (most of the time, or at least he tried to). It’s not like he didn’t want to get drunk and eat delicious greasy food like everyone else, but if he did the consequences his body would pay him back with wouldn't be worth it. So warm, sweaty bodies and late nights for him it was. His health limitations were something his friends also definitely didn’t need to ever know about. Just from the way they always fussed about his love (sex) life, he knew them finding out about his long list of medical issueswould just make it ten times worse. Which was why he didn’t feel particularly interested in another conversation with Natasha about his night time activities. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Huh?” Steve paused his work and went through the motion again: grab paper towel, wipe skin, assess art.

“I asked if you plan on-” 

Before Natasha could finish, Steve cut her off; irritated already. “If you're gonna ask me about what my plans are for tonight and if it might involve some fun, I’m telling you the same thing I said before. It’s none of your business.”

“Feisty.”

“Bored of this conversation.”

Steve felt Natasha move before she actually did. Lucky for her, or otherwise the hours of work he had put into the art on her back could have been for nothing. He was ready to tell her to be careful but when he saw her troubled face, he fell silent. 

“Don’t confuse my concern for you with me trying to lecture you. It was just a question. Normally I ask my friends what they want to drink. With you, I ask who you’re about to fuck.”

“You know, Tasha,” Steve sighed as he put the tattoo gun on the little tray table before pulling his latex gloves off with a snap. “You also have the option not to comment on it. Costs you the same thing.” He tossed the gloves into the bin before getting up and walking over to the sink to wash his hands. He knew he had to clean Natasha’s tattoo and wrap it up, but he needed a moment away from her. It was always the same routine they went through every other week and it had been happening now for months. When asked why Natasha was so concerned, she just stared at Steve as if he was supposed to know before changing the topic completely. It was infuriating on too many levels and none of those Steve wanted to explore right about now. 

Steve heard Natasha the moment she was right behind him and her arms sneaked around his body. He was only a couple of inches taller than her, so she had to get on her toes a bit, resting her chin on his shoulder as she looked straight into Steve’s eyes in the mirror. Her green eyes looked pleading but her words were ruthless at times. He felt her grip tightening around his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest and breasts pressed against his back. Her hold was strong, the years of ballet dancing giving her a very lean and powerful body. Her whole entire build stood in stark contrast to Steve’s scrawny frame. 

He focused in on himself, on his blond hair with the side parting to reveal his sidecut, the black thick rimmed glasses making his eyes look even bluer, the word Brooklyn etched on the right side of his neck. Steve considered himself decent looking, maybe a bit on the tinier side. Maybe a bit more weight would do him good, so his ribs wouldn’t stick out. And then there was his bad back, bad eyesight, bad left ear, bad heart; the list went on and on. Something she wasn’t aware of in this moment was how her hug made it harder for Steve to breathe and he most certainly wouldn’t point it out now. Instead he indulged her, trying to keep his breathing as even and as deep as he could. 

“Don’t be mad at me.” Natasha wanted to comfort him, he knew that, making up for an argument neither of them wanted. 

“I’m not mad at you.”

Her full lips slowly curled into a smile. “Yes, you are. And that’s fine. Just let me make it very clear that the only reason why I’m such a pain in your ass is because you mean a whole lot to me.” 

Steve lifted his hands to place them over Natasha’s; a soothing gesture for her, more pressure on his chest for him. “You mean a lot to me, too. And I like it when you are a pain in my ass.”

“The way you say it, it has a very different tone to it, Rogers,” Natasha laughed before she pressed her lips to his cheeks and slowly pulled away. “Also one day I might get offended at the fact that I seem to be the only female person who shows you her breasts on a regular basis and you never look.” 

“Nat, you’re my friend,” Steve said gently as he watched her in the mirror, waiting for her to turn her back to him, before he reached up to his chest in a desperate attempt to make the burning sensation go away. The weight of Natasha’s arms were gone, but the feeling in his body stayed the same. Steve tried to take a deep breath and relax. All he had to do was clean her tattoo up and then he could get a pump of his spray in the bathroom to get through this moment. Just five more minutes. 

With a smile as a perfect mask back in place on his face, Steve returned to Nat, who was back on the table. His body knew the motion without even thinking about it. Disinfectant, gloves, cleaning the spot he had worked on, some vaseline, and clear film. 

“As much as you hate it, it’s time for you to get dressed again.” Steve tickled her nape and laughed when he felt her ducking away. 

“Ugh, stop that. You know how much I hate that.” 

“That was the whole point.” He walked over to the little desk with his bag on the chair and grabbed it just to catch a moment to himself in the bathroom. The second the door clicked shut behind him, he dug desperately for his asthma spray and took a deep breath. He couldn’t even be sure if it would help. Having a body that wanted to give up on him so badly, it was always a bit of a russian roulette situation which of his meds would work and which wouldn’t. He was hoping it was just his asthma since he knew the pollen count was high today. Usually he wasn’t this sensitive with his breathing. It didn’t make it any easier hiding it from his friends, especially on days like these when his back was hurting, his ear was worse than usual, and his lungs craved air despite him trying his best to stick to his breathing exercises. But he was sick of being the one everyone had to look after. 

Being the tiny, small guy who still looked sixteen rather than twenty-eight made him stick out more than he liked anyways. Openly showing his friends the dozens of meds he carried each day in his bag for emergencies would only cause them to fret after him even more. Although he was sure Natasha had a hunch because Natasha was able to transform into this perceptive person without being on everyone’s toes. Unless it was about Steve’s sex life. Not for the first time, he wondered why it was such a huge issue for her to let him live. Life already had dealt him shitty cards to begin with, so why not make the most out of it?

A knock on the door startled him. “You ready?”

Steve took another pump before hiding it with his other meds in the depths of his bag and slipping out of the bathroom. “Pushy today, huh?” 

When they went through the parlor, Steve noticed that Natasha had already cleaned everything up so they could leave right away. Their Uber was waiting at the curb and off they were to The Raunchy Leprechaun. 

Seeing as it was Friday night, the place was packed so Sam and Clint heading there early was a blessing. That way they could secure their favorite spot, a little booth in the rear right corner right next to the big oak bar and easy access to the stairs that lead down to the toilets. At least they hoped the other two could hog up the dark green leather seats. Right now all they could see were more and more people clogging up every possible way to the bar. 

“Give me your hand,” Natasha yelled over the Irish jig that was blasting from the speakers, telling them that Dugan was there; he liked starting his shift with some tunes from the homeland. 

Steve followed Natasha’s order and linked their fingers as she stepped in front of him and pushed through the crowd while pulling him along. Deeper and deeper they shuffled their way into the crowd until Natasha suddenly stopped and pulled Steve next to her. They made it to see that Clint and Sam were indeed successful. That definitely made up for being dragged through a pub filled with people by the hand like a little boy. 

“Finally,” Sam greeted them, scooting up for Steve to sit next to him. “We were worried they cut off more people from coming in because, damn, it’s packed today.”

Nat slipped in next to Clint as she shrugged her leather jacket off. “Any reason? Anything planned?”

“Open mic night,” Clint signed before pushing a pint of beer over to Nat. 

“Open mic night? Then why are all these people here?” Natasha mused as she placed her hands around the beer and looked around. “Last time we were here during open mic, it was a disaster.”

Sam leaned a bit over the table. “Word has it Dugan will go up on stage and the people eat him up. All these Irish drinking songs and limericks he throws in between. Which is why Barnes is here as well.”

Now this caught Steve’s attention in more than one way. 

“And before you say anything, Rogers, leave that poor guy alone, will ya?” Sam said right away, stern look and everything. 

“What? It’s okay to flirt a bit?” Steve shrugged and reached over for his glass of soda which they, apparently, had ordered a while ago judging by the temperature of the glass. 

“Plus he’s an adult.” This was Clint speaking this time. “Both of them are. Barnes did flirt back. Saw it with my own eyes.” 

Steve was relieved when Sam’s scrutinizing look turned from him to Clint. “Don’t encourage him. I said that before. Everyone else but Barnes. If he actually flirted back, then it was a joke.”

“When you guys are finished deciding who I am allowed to take home, can we change the subject? I mean, not wanting to ruin your fun, but this is getting a bit out of hand.” Steve had actually a whole lot to say on that matter, but he still felt burned out from the little argument he had only an hour ago with Natasha. Going through this again was not what he wanted from their night together.

“Yeah. He did get his ear full from me today already. We should cut him some slack.” Natasha agreed, a little twinkle in her eyes as she looked over at Steve. 

For a blissful five seconds Steve could only hear the Pogues singing in the background.

_♫I just want to be there  
When the morning light explodes  
On your face it radiates♫_

And then, “By the way Rumlow asked for you. Twice.” Sam didn’t look at him, instead he stared into his nearly empty pint. 

Steve sighed. “What did he say?”

“If you would show up tonight.” When Steve looked over at Nat and Clint, the two seemed pretty busy looking anywhere else. “Told him I can’t say.” 

Another lull in which Steve could only hear the music.

_♫All I can say  
I love you 'till the end♫_

“Really, Steve? Rumlow? Of all the people in Brooklyn,” Clint was the first to break the silence before Sam added, “I’m not sure what confuses and surprises me more. You actually... but then I never took him for one to... and…”

“Oh my God, you’ve to be fucking kidding me. Tell me they’re just joking,” Nat exclaimed, eyes huge as she leaned over the table and reached for Steve’s hand. 

Steve felt his lips parting, but he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to say something. To him this discussion was obsolete. Did he understand the concern of his friends? Yes. Did he want the best for them as well? Absolutely. This was why he respected their boundaries and stopped when it was asked of him, so why they couldn’t give him the same courtesy was a question he would ask eventually. But today was not the day. Today was the ‘pulling his hand from Natasha’s and slipping out of the booth’ kinda day, his new destination was the bar. 

As some of the people fled the pub, his way to the oaken counter was a lot easier. Or maybe he was driven by the sight of dark hair pulled up into a messy bun and broad shoulders currently turned to him. Lucky for him, one of the bar stools was just vacated so he didn’t hesitate to slip onto it. 

“Hey handsome,” he called over the music at Bucky who looked over his shoulder at whoever was trying to get his attention. The raised eyebrows eased and Steve was sure he saw him rolling his eyes good-naturedly before he turned around fully, one of the dish towels hanging nonchalantly over his left shoulder, hiding the spot where normally an arm would be. 

“What can I do for my favorite customer?” Bucky asked, an easy smile on his lips as he leaned a bit closer, bracing his weight with his right hand on the counter. 

“Shh, don’t blurt it out like this or the people might get jealous.” 

Steve hated how much he loved this. He couldn’t even say when these banters between them started. One day Steve was helping Dugan paint the walls and then there Bucky was in all his glory, his laugh carrying through the nearly empty pub as he arrived with Sam calling for Steve’s full attention. There was a certain familiarity with Bucky that he couldn’t completely shake, as if Steve should know who he was. Steve had always wanted to ask the question, but never did, afraid of the answer. What if they did the deed and he’d forgotten about it? On the other hand how could he forget someone like Bucky? And asking now would be just too awkward. After all they’d known of the other person’s existence for a couple of years now and yet it never went beyond these little moments; Steve trying his hardest to find the words to make Bucky smile, eliciting some response, then volleying back and forth until something else would demand Bucky’s attention at the bar. It would leave Steve with a feeling of accomplishment he couldn’t put in a box whether it was just because he liked Bucky so much or because he wouldn’t actually mind ending up at either of their places with the sheets tangled around them. 

Bucky smiled, shifting a bit to give one of the waitresses the chance to move past him. “What can I get you? The usual?”

Steve hadn’t even touched the soda Sam had gotten him and he was actually thirsty, so he nodded, “Yep, make it a double.”

“That kinda day, huh?” Bucky sighed in understanding before getting a glass from under the counter which he filled halfway with crushed ice before turning around to the fridge. Steve watched him fascinated as he grabbed the two bottles from inside the shelf, although there was nothing so unusual about it, except the size of Bucky’s hand. He talked briefly with another waitress as he poured first the red and then the fizzy clear liquid into the glass, but turned his attention fully on Steve again when he leaned over to place the drink in front of him. “One big glass of Cherry Spritzer, just how you like it.”

“You know how to make a guy happy,” Steve smiled before licking his lips, not once looking at the drink. “But you know what would make me really happy?”

“You’ll never give up, will you?” Bucky was still returning the smile, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

Pushing himself up and leaning over to where Bucky was standing, their faces coming closer, he grabbed one of the straws which were placed right next to Bucky’s right hand. Bucky could have moved, shifted a bit to get out of Steve’s way as he leaned over, but didn’t; despite the look of surprise on his face. 

“Should I? Come on, Buck, what does a guy need to do for you to go on a date with him?” 

One of the reasons why Steve actually never stopped flirting with Bucky was he never told him to stop. No, he went with it, sometimes edging Steve on to keep going, just like now. There was no way in hell Bucky wasn’t enjoying himself a tiny bit, not with these little lines around his eyes being more prominent as his lips pulled up into this heart-melting smile. 

A smile that froze with the hand that settled on Steve’s lower back. He doubted it was either Clint, Natasha or Sam judging by the look on Bucky’s face, and when Steve shifted he found his suspicion confirmed. He remembered the guy, one of the few late night fucks he actually regretted.  
By now it had been at least a year if not more when they ended up at the guy’s apartment. Steve had felt his eyes on him throughout the night and while he actually hadn’t planned for anything to happen, another argument between him and Natasha had pushed him to leave with him. 

Ben. Now, Steve remembered the name. Tousled black hair, green eyes, a slight british accent. He was cute, the accent actually doing the trick. It had been fine until the guy started crying after their romp, something about his ex that left Steve with little other choice than to stay and comfort him. Which resulted in Ben seeking Steve out on numerous occasions. Until Steve actually told him that no, this was not the start of some happily ever after. 

Apparently, though, he had been clear enough. So before Ben could say anything, Steve sighed and shook his head when he felt the hand slowly wandering further down to his ass. 

“Short answer: nope.” It didn’t take Steve long to realize how drunk Ben actually was, but when he started to talk, actually holding onto Steve, he knew he was beyond good and evil. 

What followed was a bit of whiny gibberish until one of Ben’s friends spotted him and came to join them, pulling Ben off Steve with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, dude. He didn’t mean it--”

Steve knew Ben meant it, but he hoped Bucky couldn’t connect the dots of their relation with each other. As it seemed, though, their moment came to an end as Bucky just shook his head laughing and walked to the other side of the bar to serve another customer, but not before telling Steve, “Get on the bar. Dugan is about to go on stage. You’ll have the best view if you do.” 

When Steve turned to look at the little stage they had set up in one of the corners, all he actually saw was a wall of people and he certainly didn’t feel like going back to the others. Or make his way through the people to see Dugan. So the bar it was. He hopped onto the counter and was thankful for Bucky’s little pointer; now he could at least see Dugan’s face underneath his bowler as he made his way through the crowd to get to the mic. 

Not that this was what he was interested in. Bucky was still serving some customers who were pretty unimpressed with Dugan, his terrible dad jokes, and his guitar, giving them all his bright smile and charming personality. If someone would have asked Steve, Bucky was one of the main reasons people were coming here. Him and that doofus who just started singing Galway Girl with nearly two third of the crowd singing along. And much to Steve’s own surprise, he found himself quietly singing as well.

“Nice voice.” 

Steve nearly broke a tooth as he shut his mouth, he was sure of it, when Bucky showed up so abruptly next to him, wearing the biggest grin he had ever seen. 

“Don’t stop. I’m just here enjoying a show.”

But Steve didn’t open his mouth, far too embarrassed to do that for once. Well, at least he mouthed the words along, causing Bucky to give his shoulder a little push. Yet he didn’t leave. In fact Steve could hear his voice through the choir of pub-goers and Dugan’s booming organ and it wasn’t so bad either. And so Steve stayed put on the bar while Bucky occasionally dropped by to watch Dugan with him, every now and then even singing along. He even noticed Steve finishing his Cherry Spritzer and got him a new one without Steve even saying anything. How on earth could Sam want Steve to forgo this? 

With every passing song, the crowd became thinner andSteve could understand why when he checked the time. It was nearing two in the morning and the bar would ring the bell for the last call of the night. When Steve looked over at the booth where his friends sat hours ago, he still saw Natasha and Clint who seemed to be very focused on themselves at the moment. 

As if Bucky had read Steve’s mind, the sound of the bell rang through the room and over the applause of the people, spurring Dugan on to give them just one more song. Which he very much agreed on. 

“So, you’re heading home with your friends?” Bucky asked as he joined Steve again. The bar was nearly deserted by then, the rest of the guests sitting at the tables around the stage, giving them another moment to talk. Talk and not only flirt. Which they did occasionally and something Steve could definitely get used to. 

He sucked a piece of the crushed ice into his mouth and sucked on it, shaking his head. “I’m heading home all by myself. Like that good old Celine Dion song. Why? Is that interest I sense there?”

Actually, Steve was utterly and completely joking. They had played this game for such a long time, having Bucky say anything other than ‘keep on dreaming’ or ‘you wish’ or quote something Game of Thrones related would definitely send him into cardiac arrest. Which was why he nearly choked on the slowly melting piece of ice in his cheek when Bucky started with, “Actually, I was thinking…”

“Rogers!”

Steve closed his eyes and held his breath for a long moment. This was just his luck, wasn’t it.

“Rumlow. Heard you were looking for me.”

The thing with Brock Rumlow was, he was good looking and he knew it which wasn’t bad per se. He was good looking in the bad guy type kind of way that just screamed ‘stay away’ because it got you in all kinds of trouble. The kind where you give in once and then hear him saying that he’s not gay, never was and never will be, and this was a one time slip he would never repeat. Just for him to come crawling to you every other week to see if you may have changed your no second time rule. 

What made matters worse was him having this kind of conversation always when he was drunk. Steve could see him swaying ever so slightly, eyes trying to focus on one of the Steve’s he was apparently seeing. Or maybe he was just checking who was next to him. 

“Yeah, but looks like you weren’t looking for me,” Rumlow slurred as he took a wonky step closer. 

Nodding slowly, Steve said, “You actually hit the nail on the head. I wasn’t.”

“Should I be offended?”

“Up to you.” And now go, Steve wanted to add. He still felt Bucky behind him but he didn’t dare turn around and see the look on his face. All he wanted was for Rumlow to be gone and for Bucky to finish the sentence he had started. 

“You know, I was thinking…”

“Didn’t we agree that you shouldn’t do that when you’re drunk?” Steve immediately added. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Not now or ever. He had this situation once before with some dude he didn’t remember the name of anymore, but who stopped hunting Steve the moment he straight up told him this wasn’t going anywhere. Rumlow, however, was the type of good looking bad guy who didn’t understand the word no even if someone would spell it out for him. Not that Steve didn’t try. Luckily, up until tonight, neither of his friends ever witnessed these kinds of conversations, mostly because Rumlow avoided being seen talking to Steve. After all, Steve was notorious for his lifestyle.

“Funny. How about you continue your stand up comedy routine at my place?”

Adding insult to injury, Steve noticed Clint and Natasha slowly inching their way over to their illustrious group and he was sure this was a migraine slowly creeping up behind his eyes as well. With a sigh, he shoved his glasses up his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“We went through this. Not gonna happen. Really. I’m sure of it. Yes, before you ask, I thought about it. The answer is still no. As in never in a million years. Also I’m pretty sure this is just your drunk ass speaking right now. You’d totally regret this come morning. Just like the last time. Remember what happened?”

Maybe it was because the crowd of onlookers got too big or because Rumlow did remember what happened the last time, he - much to Steve’s relief - turned around and left. 

For some reason, Natasha seemed proud of Steve and gave him a thumbs up, but he just waved her off and turned to Bucky who had started wiping the counter with the dish towel. The moment was clearly gone and still Steve carried a bit of hope within him, so he dared saying, “You were saying before we were so rudely interrupted?”

“Ah, it was nothing. Never mind.” There was a strand of hair coming loose from Bucky’s bun which he brushed behind his ear and it made him look so young that Steve, for one brief moment, totally missed what he was saying. When it hit, though, his heart slowly sank like a stone; not even Bucky’s lopsided smile could make up for it. Or him saying the Cherry Spritzers were on the house. Or him wishing Steve a good night and sweet dreams. 

So Steve shouldered his bag that Natasha handed him and slipped from the counter, but not before leaving a good tip in the tip jar. They waved goodbye to Dugan on their way out and outside Steve let the cool air soothe his heated skin and rush into his lungs. 

“Sam nearly got a stroke when you started bothering Bucky again.” Steve needed to remind himself that neither of his friends meant any harm. Clint was probably the one who was the least pushiest from all of them, but here he was, accusing Steve in a not so subtle way of overstepping someone else’s boundaries. 

“Bothering?” Steve echoed, voice dangerously low.

“Guys, we shouldn’t have this conversation right now.”

“You’re right, Nat, we shouldn’t have this conversation right now. In fact, we never should have this conversation ever again. Like some other conversations that are and always have been off limits for me, and yet, it’s constantly swirling around us. Thoughts?” Here was the thing with Steve being pushed. People expected for him to bow out and apologize because that was what a guy like him, skinny and frail and pale and tiny, was supposed to do. Steve, however, pushed back. Hard. Sometimes too hard. Like now. Red hair was flying as Natasha whipped her head around, green eyes glaring down at him. “Sucks, huh? Having someone probing around in your business. Doesn’t it, Nat?”

“Fuck you, Rogers.” When Natasha stormed off, Clint on her heels, Steve didn’t feel as victorious as he wanted to. Not for the first time that night, he really wished he wasn’t completely sober. He never needed anything to loosen up, but he definitely needed something to blame his big mouth on. At this moment he was so furious with himself, he just started walking. It’d be a good twenty to thirty minute walk to his apartment and a cab would be a lot more convenient than his untrustworthy feet, but he needed to let off some necessary steam. 

When did his life take such a weird turn? It definitely went haywire after his mother’s passing, that he was already aware of. Yet with the help of his uncle, he did manage to go through school and didn’t need to worry about housing. Another hurdle was thrown at him with each diagnosis the doctors gave him. Once again Steve faced the situation head on and did everything in his abilities to take care of himself. Then again, did he? According to his friends, definitely not. But wasn’t he happy? The short answer was: in a way, yes. The long answer would require him chipping at the surface of his scattered brain where he knew he would find a whole warehouse filled with Pandora’s boxes. None of them he wanted to even look at let alone touch.

So walking off his bad mood it was. Until he rounded the corner and saw Rumlow leaning against the building. 

“How did you…” Steve started, but then just waved it off. This was a bad idea, but after the night he had it didn’t matter anymore. “Nevermind. Listen, if we do this, I need you to promise to leave me alone afterward. Promise?”

“Scout’s honor.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once they arrived at his place, Rumlow had sobered up enough to understand what he was doing. Which then resulted in him having a minor breakdown that led to a somewhat larger existential crisis, one Steve definitely wasn’t prepared for. So all he could do was offer some chocolate and the couch, both of which Rumlow took thankfully, while Steve listened to him rambling about how he couldn’t be as out and proud as Steve was. Occasionally he would pat Rumlow’s shoulder or hand him another piece of chocolate. He didn’t even try giving him advice because there was none. Everyone’s experience was different. His family had always been supportive of him, as were his friends. However, he also knew enough stories of parents disowning their kids and even putting them on the street. Then all that was left was your chosen family and if they didn’t have your back it could be scary. Not that Rumlow was digging this deep, but he probably had his reasons for not admitting his interest in men. What made this whole scene so extremely awkward and irritating was the fact Steve knew how the next morning would pan out and it’d be a complete one-eighty from this heartfelt moment right now. 

When Rumlow finally rambled himself into sleep and Steve could crawl under his own sheets, he was nearly tempted to go back out there and press a pillow on the guy’s face. Only for a moment. Just enough for Steve to express his anger he felt for Rumlow interrupting his moment with Bucky. Steve had been sure that Bucky was slowly warming up to him. Well, he sort of already had otherwise he probably wouldn’t entertain Steve the way he did. Unless he looked at it the same way the others did; just some guy who couldn’t take a hint and bothered him so he would at least be nice. Wasn’t that the word Clint used? Bothered? A tiny voice inside Steve wondered if they were right. Was he bothering Bucky? Should he leave him be? 

Steve thought back to a couple of weeks ago and a somewhat loud conversation between Bucky and some girl who had, apparently, slapped his butt whenever he passed by. Now, Steve had never been physical with Bucky, but overstepping boundaries was overstepping boundaries. And if Steve would do this to Bucky, he would tell Steve the same he told that lady; that he and his money weren’t welcome anymore. 

With a groan, Steve grabbed one of his pillows and pressed it on his own face. Maybe that way he would stop thinking about this guy. In the end, he just nearly gave himself an asthma attack. After some help from his inhaler and going through his breathing exercises, he even managed to go to sleep. 

When he woke and took a step out of his bedroom, he suddenly remembered the circumstances under which he went to bed. Sometimes, sleep was bliss because it put you in this state where you could forget everything. At least for a short moment. And then everything came crashing back when he found Rumlow still on his couch. 

Grumbling and mumbling under his breath, Steve squinted against the sunlight pouring into his living room from the small kitchenette window as he padded over to the bathroom. There he eyed his toothbrush suspiciously. Just because Rumlow looked like he hadn’t moved an inch since last night didn’t mean he hadn’t. So he grabbed a new toothbrush from under the sink and quickly went through his morning routine which started with a fast shower and ended with a bunch of meds piled in his hand. It wasn’t the first time in his life Steve was thankful for his nonexistent gag reflex when he tossed them all back in one go. 

Feeling somewhat more awake than before, he stepped into his living room and was faced with Rumlow going through his fridge and giving him what seemed to be the stink eye over his shoulder as if Steve was the one trespassing. 

“Good morning to you, too,” Steve rasped as he padded over to where Rumlow was standing. He didn’t hesitate pushing him aside to get to his food, ignoring the sound of protest coming from the other guy. “There’s Advil in the bathroom if you need any.” Certainly he looked like he needed it. Now that Steve was up close, he could see Rumlow’s face better and that was clearly the face of someone drinking over his limits. At least he didn’t show his appreciation for the hospitality by throwing up all over Steve’s living room floor. 

Bottle of juice in one hand and bowl of overnight oats in the other, Steve flopped down on the couch and found it still warm. 

“You're not gonna tell anyone, right?”

It took a moment for Steve to connect the question with what he wasn’t supposed to tell. “Sure, as if I want you to beat the crap out of me. You already always look like it’s what you wanna do when you’re sober.”

Steve had turned the TV on, zapping through the channels while Rumlow kept going through the cabinets. 

“Don’t you have coffee in this place?”

“Nope. It’s orange juice or water.”

“Fuck.”

As it seemed, the lack of coffee was the sole reason why Rumlow couldn’t stay any longer. He got his shoes from where Steve put them next to the couch the night prior and slipped into them before heading to the door. Steve didn’t expect for Rumlow to say anything else. He didn’t even expect for him to mention he would remember any of their conversation.

“Look, Rogers, I’m not a bad guy. I would never punch you. I just...I can’t have anyone know.”

Steve shifted in his seat, looking to where Rumlow stood at his door with his hand on the knob. 

“Brock.” It seemed having someone referring to him by his first name did something to Rumlow. Steve couldn’t put his finger on it, but he certainly looked less menacing than his usual sober self. “You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’m not holding you accountable. I like having fun and that’s about it. It’s not like we want to get hitched or anything.”

To Steve’s surprise Rumlow lingered at the door and when he spoke again Steve was in for a surprise. 

“But you can’t tell me that’s not what you really want, Rogers. No one sleeps around that much because they like to be alone at home.” 

Steve wouldn’t admit it, but it was hard disputing an unspoken truth. So instead of risking an unwanted discussion about his inner turmoil, he sat back and stared at the black screen of his TV. “Go get your coffee.” 

It was hard to say, but from the moment he dismissed Rumlow to the second he finally opened the door and left felt far too long. Plus it ruined his otherwise neutral mood. Steve didn’t really feel like talking about the skeletons in his closet with someone like Rumlow who actually tried to bury his own with alcohol and a bad temper. 

Steve poked at his breakfast for another five minutes before he decided he needed to get some fresh air. They wouldn’t open the parlor for another three hours, but he still had enough work to do to keep him busy. So after getting dressed, he was out on the streets again and while he didn’t plan for a detour, he found himself walking towards the Raunchy Leprechaun. 

He knew no one would be there at this time of day, yet it was an unhealthy habit he had started months ago and couldn’t quite shake after a random run in with Bucky. Steve had thought it would be just a quick exchange of words, but in the end they sat on the steps leading to the bar for nearly an hour. Thinking back to their conversation and the topics they spoke about, no matter how briefly, he was shocked to find how honest he had been with Bucky. Then again it was probably Bucky’s own truthfulness, the bits and pieces about his life, that allowed Steve to open up the way he did. When Bucky told him a story about his time in the Army and how long it took for him to live in a city like New York again, Steve met him halfway with his story about medical bills and how much he had to work to pay for them. It was in the way Bucky didn’t ask about his afflictions, but how many hours a day he was at the parlor that made Steve like him even more. 

The good thing was even without running into a friendly face, he knew of a café on the way which served good coffee and even more amazing cinnamon buns. He definitely had to get some of the latter to make up to Natasha for the night prior. Already thinking about what he could say Steve nearly failed to hear someone addressing him. 

“Someone’s up early.” 

Doing a double-take, Steve came face to face with a freshly showered Bucky judging by the damp strands coming loose from his bun. 

Apparently, Steve was up way too early because the next thing he said was, “I was just thinking about you.”

Bucky still stood in the entrance of the bakery he just emerged from, rolling his eyes good-naturally. “Oh, really?”

“I was thinking about that conversation we had? A couple of months ago?” 

Bucky was struggling with his cup and satchel he was carrying and Steve didn’t hesitate taking the cup from him so he could put the strap over his head. With a bashful smile, Bucky took the cup back and they walked down the sidewalk together. 

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said and for a moment Steve wanted to ask what he was apologizing for, when Bucky held up his cup. 

Steve, however, just waved him off. “No need to apologize. But as I was saying, that conversation we had? It was nice, right?”

Thinking about his words, Steve couldn’t say what had been so funny, but Bucky was laughing way too hard about that question. 

“You know, that was a genuine question last night. When I asked if you’ll ever give up? I could actually be secretly married, you know.”

“No ring,” Steve immediately shot back, a proud smile on his lips which wavered when Bucky replied, “Not with my left arm missing.”

“Even without any arms, you would still find a way to display that. You seem like the type of person who loves showing their significant other off, right?”

“True. Still no answer to my question. And before you say you asked me a question before, I’ve been waiting for yours since last night.” 

And Steve wouldn’t argue with that. “Okay, but it’s linked to my question. I was just wondering if we can have such nice conversations why, you know, we can’t go out on a date. Or just meeting for a coffee, going to the movies. Something friendship-like.”

Of course Steve knew the answer or at least he assumed it. He stopped counting the times Sam told him to stay away from Bucky and he was sure Sam told Bucky the same. In the beginning, Steve had thought it was a sweet gesture of Sam trying to look out for his friends. But by now Steve felt as if he was a reckless, cruel person who was out to hurt the people around him just because he could. No one had to tell him that a man like Bucky went through a lot and then some, and for Sam to expect Steve to try and hurt him pained him. Who knew what kind of things Sam might have told Bucky about Steve that made him keep his distance. Maybe this was the moment he would find out. 

“I don’t know…” Bucky trailed off, looking at the street ahead. 

“You asked if I’ll ever give up. Give me one good reason to and I’ll never, ever ask you again.” They were slowly coming to a halt in front of the bar and while Steve couldn’t look away from Bucky, Bucky was busy looking down at his boots. “Other than what Sam told you. Don’t deny it. He probably had a couple of things to say about me, but apart from that. What’s one good reason for us not to hang out?”

Up until that point Steve never usually brought Sam up when he talked to Bucky. They were both friends with him and mentioning his dislike for them to get to know each other always loomed above them. Talking about it could have given Steve a clue what Sam’s biggest issue was, but he also knew both of them had a completely different relationship with Sam. The first time Steve met Sam, Sam accompanied one of the vets he counseled to the parlor and they started talking. Steve knew what work Sam was doing and tried his hardest educating himself on the matter. Bucky and Sam met because Bucky was or had been one of the vets coming to the VA meetings. Steve only knew a little bit about Bucky’s time in the army, never really having the chance to delve deeper into it during their short conversations at the bar. Then again an Irish Pub wasn’t the perfect place to talk about what caused Bucky to lose his left arm. 

The silence was stretching on for too long and Steve was losing the bit of hope he had hung onto since the night before. He was ready to let him off the hook, telling him he didn’t have to give him a reason but how he had wished for them to at least become friends, when Bucky finally said, “On Saturdays I like going to the Grand Army Plaza greenmarket. I try to go real early, just when they open.”

When Bucky’s eyes looked over at Steve his throat got dry. This was not the Bucky he usually saw behind the counter, serving drinks and laughing with the people. Right now Bucky seemed, for a lack of a better word, scared.

“So if you might be there, I won’t be hiding behind any of the stalls.” 

The way Bucky said it made Steve wonder if they would keep it a secret from the others, but right now he didn’t want to rain on his own parade. Right now he was happy for Bucky giving this a chance. Whatever this was. 

“Grand Army Plaza. Got it.” A tiny voice wanted to ask Bucky if he was sure, but a bigger and more selfish part decided he wanted to jump on this opportunity. Even if there was the likelihood of Bucky not showing up.

Instead of pushing Bucky more, Steve smiled at him and watched him disappear behind the door that led inside the pub. He should have felt happy, elated, ecstatic, but all Steve found was uncertainty. Did Bucky only give in to finally tell him he should stop? Letting him down easy? Bucky didn’t seem happy when he made the suggestion, but as Clint said the night before, they were both adults. So whatever would happen Saturday, Steve would accept it. After all, as he told Rumlow before, he didn’t want to get hitched. Right?

Twenty minutes and a stop at another café later, Steve arrived at the parlor just to find he wasn’t alone. Natasha was already sitting at her desk, completely focused on her sketch. But not too focused to ignore the noise Steve made as he entered, and yet she didn’t even flinch let alone look at him. So Natasha was indeed still mad at him, and while Steve was aware of the hypocrisy here he still wanted to make up for their argument. 

Balancing the cup holder and the bag of pastries over to his own desk, Steve put everything down before taking Natasha’s cup and one of the cinnamon buns and went over to Nat. He placed both items in front of her, far away from the sketch but close enough to see the offering Steve made. 

“I come in peace,” he said gently as he leaned against her desk, hands up in surrender. “And offer you an olive branch. Well, more like a Café Latte with a double shot of espresso and your favorite treat. I thought having this conversation on a full stomach would be easier.”

Natasha still didn’t move for a long moment. All Steve saw was the crown of her head and tense shoulders while he was holding his breath, waiting for her to say anything. Then she leaned back and looked at him and Steve breathed a sigh of relief. 

“I hate when you do that.” Natasha’s hand reached for the cup and pulled it closer.

“What exactly? Bribing you with goods or saying something I shouldn’t have said in the first place?” 

“Both, but especially the latter.” 

This wasn’t exactly the conversation he wanted to have this early in the morning. Then again he didn’t want to have an existential crisis before nine either, but thanks to Rumlow that was exactly what he got. 

Assuming this might take a while, Steve pulled one of the stools closer and flopped down. “It might be beneficial to say neither of us showed their best side yesterday. I was just so angry.” Steve reconsidered and shook his head, “No. Not angry. Disappointed. I know you mean well. And Sam deep down too. But I know what I’m doing. Getting told what a horrible person I am for sleeping around feels awful.”

Steve watched Natasha reach for the cinnamon bun and tear it apart before offering Steve one half which he took with a grateful smile. 

“And I know why you’re telling me time and time again why I should be careful when it comes to Bucky, but we’re adults and can make our own decisions. We both know my reputation. Do you think I don’t hear the things people say about me? How they call me a whore, a slut, skank among other things? When I can hear them and you can hear them, so can Bucky. And if he doesn’t want to hang out with me, he can tell me himself.”

Nat nibbled on her pastry while listening to Steve and he appreciated her letting him talk, not even realizing until now how important it was for him to speak his mind. “So when you kept pushing and Sam jumped on the train and then Rumlow showed up, I was just so overwhelmed. I’m sorry I hit so low. It was me reacting in a moment I felt unfairly treated. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Before Steve could say anything else, Natasha pulled him closer on the rollstool and gave him a big hug. 

“I accept your apology. I don’t like what you say, but I accept your apology. And you know why? Because I love you, Steve Rogers. I really love you. Don’t ever think I look at you and see something other than an amazing, talented, warm person. I just wish…” Nat trailed off as she pulled back, one hand holding his. “I just wish you could see this for yourself. You’re full of love. You’re loved. And I would love nothing more than to see you share all of you with one person. Don’t give me that ‘but I’ve so much love to give so I share it with a lot of people’ crap. If I didn’t know it any better, I’d say you’re hiding something.”

It was unfair for Steve to interrupt instead of letting Natasha speak, but he bursted out, “And this is exactly what’s driving me crazy. Why are you trying to make decisions about my life for me like you know me better than I know myself? And I want you to be happy with Sam and-”

Pulling her hand away from Steve, Natasha got up and walked over to the sink. “That’s not the same.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m with Clint.” 

Roughly a year ago Natasha left Clint. It wasn’t pretty, but they managed to push through it. All of them. They had to as Natasha and Sam soon after became an item. Not that it lasted long as Natasha broke up with Sam shortly after to return to Clint.Steve was ready to pull his hair out. It was the first time they actually talked about the whole debacle that happened to that time. Then again this was not exactly a conversation but rather Natasha making a point not wanting to talk about it if the short answers were anything to go by.

“Hate me all you want, maybe you need to try and work on your own problems before trying to mess with anybody else’s life? I like Clint, I do. And I can tell you like being around him, but it was so much different with Sam. You seemed more at ease, more-”

This time it was Natasha cutting him off. “Okay, Steve, I get it. I won’t talk about you sleeping around and you won’t tell me how much ‘more at ease’ I was when I was with Sam. Do we have a deal?”

Steve was ready to tell Natasha no, wanting the whole truth of what had actually happened. But then he realized what a hypocrite it made him. He had his own secrets he wasn’t ready to share, so what right did he have to push Natasha to tell him hers? This time it was Steve walking over to Nat and wrapping his arms around her, holding her. 

“I’m right here for you, Nat. Whenever you want to talk, I’m right here. Maybe we should try and actually talk more and lecture each other less. What do you think?”

Steve could feel her little chuckle more than he could hear it, his good ear pressed against her back. 

“I think you’re right. I trust you, Steve and I do want to talk to you about it sometime, but not today. I’m just not ready for that”

Natasha trusting him enough to finally open up was heartwarming, but Steve knew it also meant he would have to do the same. For now, though, they seem to have found their way back to lighter conversations. They spoke about Dugan and the projects they were working on, some of their worst customers and some of their favorites until it was time to open the shop. Both of them had a full schedule today, that was until the phone rang and Steve’s client for the day had to cancel. He was disappointed because he loved his work; whenever he watched his work becoming permanent art on someone else, it made him happy. People trusted him with their idea and he was allowed to make them a reality. Back when he finished his art degree, he dreamed of exhibits and an atelier where he could work in peace. Steve quickly realized that it took more than talent to make this dream come true. 

Lucky for him he found a new dream when he got his first tattoo. It was the one on his chest right over his heart surgery scar; a portrait of his mother as a nurse. Even now, fourteen years after her passing, he missed her more than words could explain. It was funny when people asked him about his parents and he told them they were both dead. How their faces turned from sympathy to irritation because, hey, he was twenty-eight now, wasn’t it time for him to move on and forget his grief? He only remembered bits and pieces about his father who passed away during the Gulf War. His mother was his Northern Star, the one who held him together after their loss, always telling him things were getting better when they were faced with another diagnosis. She was so focused on Steve’s health, she completely ignored the warning signs her body sent her. Until it was too late. They told her she only had another three months, in the end Sara Rogers cheated death for a full year. 

Hold fast and you can survive every storm. Those were some of her last words. Hold fast. He carried these words with him, right across his knuckles. Steve’s fingertips danced across the letters as he sat on his desk. By then he had already cleaned the front of the shop and started on sketches for some of his future appointments, in hopes for some distraction. But since the conversation with Natasha - and Rumlow - he kept thinking about their words and the truth behind them. How he probably did want more than these casual encounters. For a moment he wondered what his mother would tell him and he was sure he wouldn’t like it. 

The jingle of their doorbell ripped Steve out of his thoughts. Natasha was busy with a customer, so Steve walked to the front and found none other than, “Uncle Abe!”

Uncle Abe wasn’t even Steve’s uncle, but the person who took him under his wing after his mother’s passing. Abraham Erskine was a German scientist who had lived in the house right next to them. How and when he and Steve’s family became close, no one could say for sure, just that he was part of them and even spent Christmas with the Rogers. Until it was just Steve and Abraham. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?” Steve was still surprised about the visit, but it was very much appreciated. He didn’t even give the man a moment to answer before he threw himself at him, hugging him close. 

“Uff! This is the reason why I don’t tell you, Steven, I like to surprise you.” Steve could hear the smile in Abraham’s voice as he returned the hug and it was still there when they parted. “Are you busy or can I steal you for a minute? I thought about lunch.”

“Just let me tell Nat real quick.” Steve was already on this way to the back where Natasha was still working on her customer. As it seemed, they had been loud enough for her to hear because before Steve could say anything she already waved him off. 

“Go, get your lunch. Just be a doll and put the phone in my back pocket. Makes it easier.” Of course Steve did as he was told and gave Natasha a quick kiss on the cheek before joining Abraham again. 

“When was the last time you were in New York?” Steve thought out loud as he pushed the door open for them. After Steve graduated college, Abraham got a job offer from a facility in Washington DC. It wasn’t too far away, but Abraham was an expert in his field and rarely had time to visit. Steve knew he could see him any time, but he was worried he was just keeping him from his work. He never fully understood what Abraham was working on, just that he worked with stem cells. 

“Must be for your birthday, I think. Definitely too long ago.” It was the beginning of October, so three months wasn’t so bad. But he agreed on the sentiment; he, too, wished they could see each other more often. 

Not far from the tattoo parlor was a nice little Italian restaurant with, in Steve’s opinion, the best pizza in town. It was an unwritten law for them to stop by whenever Abraham was in town, so it was easy to keep the conversation going. 

“And you’re in town because you wanted to stop by?” It was unlikely. Actually, Steve already knew the answer.

“A convention. Luckily some of my colleagues got some food poisoning so I had time to see you. I wanted to call you, but I was afraid I would have to cancel.”

Despite his years living in the States, Abraham’s thick German accent still made Steve smile. “Don’t worry. I’m happy to see you. Even if it’s just for a couple of hours.” 

The restaurant wasn’t busy so they could choose a spot for them to sit. Steve picked a table at the window. He loved the light coming in; illuminating the dark interior while he watched the people pass by. Right now, though, he focused completely on Abraham. He had this charm about him, with his fedora and long coat he looked like he just stepped out of an old classic movie. He even still wore a pocket watch, a quirk that was so endearing. 

“Tell me, Steven, how have you been? You look good.” 

[](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312/been-doing-stucky-bangs-for-a-few-years-now-and)   


For a lot of people, asking someone else about their health was just an empty phrase, thinking it was necessary to continue the conversation without caring what the other actually said. Maybe it was Abraham’s German upbringing that made this question so genuine. Or the simple fact that he knew how bad Steve’s health truly was. 

“I’m actually fine. The asthma is giving me trouble from time to time, my blood sugar is normal, my back is killing me after a long day. You know, the usual.” 

“And what about…” Instead of finishing the sentence, Abraham reached across the small table and tapped the center of Steve’s chest with his finger. 

It was easy to forget what he went through now that the scar was covered with the face of his mother, but Steve was well aware that this was far from over. 

The waitress came to take their orders, giving Steve another moment to go back in time. When his mom passed, his whole world had come crashing down on him. So when he hid in his bedroom, not wanting to eat and sleeping all day, no one was really surprised. At least at first. After a while, however, it became clear Steve was sick and by the time they got the diagnosis for strep-infection it had affected his heart. The valves were damaged. And due to his already bad health, no one in the immediate area wanted to do the surgery. Steve was sure that without Abraham’s help and effort, he would probably be dead by now. 

“Did you talk to Dr Jeong?” Abraham returned to his question once the waitress was gone and Steve felt himself shrinking under his eyes. “I’m not asking you to offend you, Steven. I’m just worried.”

“I know. I should have called him months ago, but we both know that I need the money first.” Money for another surgery. It had been a long time coming, but it didn’t mean it was easy putting 100k to the side. To this day Abraham refused any money Steve wanted to give him back for the first surgery.

Nodding understandingly, Abraham said, “I see.” 

The waitress came with their drinks order, putting the coffee in front of Abraham and the water in front of Steve. 

“I can tell you don’t want to talk about it, but if you do I’m only a phone call away. Okay?” 

It wasn’t so much that Steve didn’t want to talk about it. The truth was, there was too much connected to the issue. The fear of the surgery, the cost attached to it, keeping it away from his friends…

As if Abraham read his mind, he asked, “You still didn’t tell your friends?”

Steve shook his head. “I like the way they treat me right now, I don’t want it to change.”

“Mhh, but what if they don’t treat you any differently? This is also an option, don’t you think?”

“But what if they do?” Steve’s mantra had always been ‘be prepared for the worst’. People leave, they die, they reject you, so if he was aware of it, it wouldn’t hurt and he could prepare himself. 

Abraham stirred his coffee, a patient smile on his face. “Let me rephrase this question. How do you think they might treat you, if they knew about your health?”

He didn’t even have to think about an answer. “With velvet gloves. They already do when it comes to…” Steve pressed his lips together, cutting himself off. This was definitely not the sort of conversation he wanted to have, but apparently this was the day for existential crises and uncomfortable talks. 

“When it comes to?”

“My love life. There. I said it. Even before you could ask me.” This seemed to amuse Abraham as Steve could still see the smile behind the cup of coffee. 

“What makes you think I’d ask about your love life?” he asked once he put the mug down again, the smile still in place. 

Steve loved Abraham, but every conversation they had always ended with him baring his soul. And while it was cathartic in the end, it was hard for Steve opening up like this. “Because you always do.”

“Only because I’m worried.”

“You’re always worried, Abraham. And I always tell you, you don’t have to be.”

While Steve hoped this was the end of this matter, eyes flicking to the window to watch the people on the street, he had a feeling Abraham still had more to say. 

“You’re old enough to make your own decisions, but you need to let people in if you want them to stay. And I know what you want to say, why you keep your guards up. But I won’t be here forever and I’d love to know you found someone to spend the rest of your life with.”

“Please,” Steve said painfully, “don’t say that.”

“It’s true. Life is finite. It’s just our survival instinct that keeps us going until our inner clock runs out. Till then, we should make the most out of it. The same goes for you. You’re a great man, Steven, and nothing less.”

When the pizza arrived, Steve didn’t feel particularly hungry anymore. Not after Abraham’s last words. It was a universal truth no one could deny, but it still didn’t sit well with him talking about it. Not after losing his mother how he did. How did one go on after talking about mortality?

“It’s not that I haven’t met anyone,” Steve mumbled after he finally took the first bite of his pizza.

“Is that so?”

Steve couldn’t even say why he mentioned it, or why he said, “His name is Bucky. Actually James, but everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a vet and works at the Irish Pub I told you about.”

Abraham listened while cutting his pizza, a small smile on his lips. “You mentioned him before. I didn’t know you were interested in him.”

Because Sam told him to stay away. Because Natasha told him to stay away. Because everyone thought he would hurt Bucky. How was he supposed to tell Abraham the reason for him not mentioning Bucky was because everyone thought of him as a tramp. Telling Abraham about this part of his life would include delving into his abandonment issues, and wasn’t it hilarious how Steve knew what his problem was but was too scared to do anything about it?

“We’ll see how it works. We might see each other on Saturday. Just a noncommittal date.” The word felt foreign on his tongue, especially in connection with Bucky. Then again, he couldn’t remember the last time he had been on a real date. 

“And he knows it’s noncommittal?”

“His suggestion.” Come to think of it, making it noncommittal seemed like the best decision. After all, Steve still hadn’t figured out what exactly he wanted from Bucky, if he was completely honest. All he did know was he liked being around him. A lot. 

Abraham nodded as he reached for the napkin. “I’m glad to hear this. Would you like to tell me about it? Maybe you can call me Saturday evening?”

“I’d love to.” 

Somehow his little confession eased the tension around them and they could talk about lighter matters. Abraham asked Steve about any tattoos he added to his collection and Steve asked Abraham about his work and the progress he had made. Although Steve didn’t understand all aspects of Abraham’s work, Abraham tried his hardest to explain it with the simplest terms and Steve found himself asking question after question. Even after they were finished with the pizza and their dessert. 

“Oh, before I forget,” Abraham said suddenly and reached for his satchel under the table. “I want to give you something. You’re to promise me not to be mad or argue with me. I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t have the means.” A moment later, Abraham put a white envelope in the middle of the table. Without even picking it up, Steve knew exactly what it was. 

“Abraham, I can’t--”

“You can, Steven. I want you to take this and add it to your savings. Please.” 

Steve stared at the envelope peeking out underneath Abraham’s hand. 

“I was thinking about checking places here in New York. It would make it easier financially. Maybe you could keep it until…”

“Steven.” Abraham knew the lie before Steve could even finish it. He had been to the hospitals here in New York, had talked to the cardiologist. All of them, without an exception, told him they wouldn’t even dare thinking about doing the surgery on him. Going to Ohio and letting Dr Jeong open him up again was the best choice he had. No matter the cost. “It’s not much. Definitely not enough to cover the cost, but I want to help you in every possible way. Will you let me help you?”

When Abraham took his hand off the envelope and Steve looked at it, he was reminded once again why he would never let any of his friends know what he was going through. Abraham didn’t look at him as a burden, but Steve felt like one. He couldn’t be sure how much money Abraham put in there, but it was probably enough for one of those old timey cars he loved so much. Or a short trip to Germany to visit his birth place. So many things he could do but he decided it was more important to give it to Steve.

“I don’t know what to say,” Steve mumbled. The tears were welling up and he had to take his glasses off to wipe them away. “I’m sorry. I wish you didn’t have to.”

Being the practical person he was, Abraham just chuckled. “I don’t have to. But I want to. A small difference. You’re my family and I want to see you safe and sound. As I’m sure all your friends would agree if they knew.”

Still reluctant, Steve reached for the envelope and hesitated for a moment, just long enough for Abraham putting his wrinkly hand above his tattooed one. “I love you, Steven. Do not think of yourself as a burden. Please.”

Just because Steve never said how he saw himself, didn’t mean Abraham didn’t know. He once told Steve that it was about what he didn’t say rather than what he was willing to share that made him so transparent for him. A tiny part of him believed Abraham, that he was more than just a sickly, queer guy who had a hard time letting anyone in. A much bigger part was convinced he needed to prove his value and how he was more than his illnesses. 

“I’ll pay you back. I don’t know how, but I will.” 

Abraham just looked patiently at Steve, both fully aware that he thought it wasn’t necessary. 

Before Abraham could argue, Steve beckoned for the waitress and paid for their food; it was the least he could do. Despite their bond, Steve would never know how to avoid the heaviness resting on them when they met. Maybe it was because Abraham saw him at his worst, maybe it was because Steve was afraid he saw him like this at all. It was this kind of feeling he didn’t want between him and his friends and was so deeply afraid of. 

When Abraham walked Steve back to the parlor, they talked about some movie they had seen the other day. Just some light small talk to take the edge off of the heavy topics they’d just had. It didn’t work for Steve and so he was actually relieved when he saw the luminous sign of the shop coming closer. Abraham quickly said hi to Natasha, who was done with her customer, and they exchanged some pleasantries before he bid his farewell and reminded Steve they would talk on Saturday. Luckily Abraham didn’t mention Bucky so Steve didn’t have to vindicate himself to Natasha about their meeting and he was thankful for small mercies. 

He was even more thankful once Natasha told him she was quitting for the night, leaving him on his own. Being alone meant having time to think, but today he didn’t want to think. Steve felt exhausted from the day, every conversation he had starting with Rumlow had drained him to the point where he just wanted to forget. Not even thinking about his encounter with Bucky could lift his spirits. And while he still had their meeting in mind, it didn’t stop him from flirting with the young woman stepping into the parlor. She actually wanted to see Natasha, but was surprised by the little cutie behind the counter. Their banter was easy and Steve didn’t plan on having a quickie in the back of the shop, but it happened. There was a short moment as she was bent over the massage table and his pants pooled around his ankles where he was asking himself, what was he doing? It was a fleeting thought, one he didn’t want to chase because he knew what he would find in the end. Steve wasn’t ready for this confrontation, he couldn’t even say if he ever would be. For this night, however, he managed to fend off those thoughts and feelings despite knowing he couldn’t run away forever.


	3. Chapter 3

When Steve arrived at the Grand Army Plaza, it was way too early for his liking. Especially after the shitty evening he’d had. After the girl was gone and he had cleaned up, he felt something he hadn’t dealt with before: remorse. The picture of Bucky came up and he was struggling to understand what it meant, why he felt so guilty fucking this girl knowing he would see Bucky the next morning. It was, as he said before, noncommittal. Bucky only agreed after Steve suggested this could be completely platonic, so why did he feel as if he fucked it up?

This thought still haunted him as he was tossing in his bed later that night. And if he wasn’t thinking about this, he was thinking about Abraham. And Rumlow. And Nat. Eventually he gave up trying to sleep and got up just to sit by his window and doodle on his sketch pad. When he finally focused on what he was drawing, two familiar eyes were looking back at him. Bucky’s eyes. Before he could try to understand why his mind had wandered to him, Steve tossed the pad across the room and watched it slam against the wall with his family pictures. One of the last pictures of him with his mom came crashing down on top of the crumbled sheets, glass broken. 

Two hours, one shower and a forbidden cup of coffee later, Steve found himself at the Plaza. They didn’t settle on a time; Steve only knew Bucky came here early. At least that’s what he said. So instead of standing around and looking lost, Steve wandered around the stalls and looked at the goods. One of them immediately caught his attention with the freshly baked pastries and pies and Steve found himself in front of the selection, debating if he should get a treat or wait for Bucky. 

“The cream puffs are amazing,” a voice next to Steve said, ripping him from the first nice thought of the morning. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find Bucky next to him, but he was and apparently it showed on his face. 

“You really thought I’d stand you up, didn’t you?” Bucky chuckled and shifted to have a better look at the baked goods. “Funny, I thought the same about you. Can I have a bag of cream puffs, two éclairs and one slice of the bee sting cake?” 

Steve found himself staring at Bucky for a long moment while he gave his order. His comment didn’t exactly offend him, but it made him wonder why they both expected the other not to show up. He didn’t ask right away; Steve waited for Bucky to pay before they started their stroll. 

“It’s kind of sad, isn’t it? I mean, I know why I expected for you to stay away--”

“Is that so?” Bucky interrupted gently as he held the bag with the goods out for Steve to take. 

It took Steve a moment to understand that the things Bucky bought, he bought for the two of them, so he took one of the cream puffs.

“Sam?” As if that was answer enough. At least to Steve it was and after the times Sam had been in his hair about staying away from Bucky, he assumed it was just the other way around. 

“What about him?”

Steve couldn’t tell if Bucky was playing naive or if Steve thought too badly about their common friend, and maybe having this conversation after his night wasn’t the best decision he’d made in his life, but here he was, pushing for an answer. 

“C’mon, Buck. Maybe it’s best for us to get this out of the way. You can’t tell me he didn’t warn you about me.” Uncharacteristically, this whole matter agitated him even more than usual. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe his inability to make the right decision, so before he could run his mouth even more, he shoved half the cream puff into his mouth and munched on it. 

For a while neither of them said anything, just walked from stall to stall, from flowers to vegetables, before Bucky finally said, “He did. More than once. But I don’t need Sam to tell me you’re a tease. I have my own eyes to see with.”

It was easy to look at it as an insult, but Steve decided to use it to probe a little. “Means you’ve been looking at me more closely. I’m flattered.”

When Bucky laughed, it was more like a deep rumble in his chest and Steve enjoyed the sound immensely. Then again, there was little Steve didn’t enjoy about Bucky and a lot that he did, from his broad built to his brown, shoulder length hair.

“You don’t have your hair up in a bun. I don’t think I ever saw you without one.”

“I couldn’t be bothered with it this morning. Thought I’d present a different side of me for once as well.” And there it was again. Bucky’s flirtatious side with that lopsided smile and a little crinkle around his eyes. It left Steve wondering where it came from, if he just wanted to have some fun, but with the matter of Sam still looming above them, he guessed this was not the right moment to ask. 

“I like it.” Steve was even daring enough to reach out and tuck a strand behind Bucky’s ear and if he was correct, he even saw a faint blush on his cheeks. “Can I ask you something, Buck?”

Bucky stopped at a stall with fresh fruits and looked at the apples. “Sure. Just as long as you can live with me maybe not answering.”

“Deal. I’m just wondering what Sam exactly told you about me or rather why he warned you? He did give you a reason, right?” Whenever Steve mentioned Bucky in Sam’s presence, the tempers flared and no answer was given. Asking Bucky could help Steve understand the real issue. 

Before Bucky said anything, he bought some apples and tangerines and took the bag from the fruit dealer. “He did give me a couple of reasons. But his main concern is me getting my heart broken. And how much more hurtful it could be by a friend as well. Some people might think that when you part with a friend, it’s not that bad, but it is. I’d say it could be worse even. I thought you two talked about it? At least Sam said you did.”

Steve snorted. “Whenever your name comes up, he just yells at me to stay away. Not sure if that counts as a conversation. It made me wonder how good of a counselor he actually is.”

“You take it very lightly how your friends talk about you,” Bucky commented as they continued their way through the aisles. “Doesn’t it upset you?”

With anybody else, Steve might have lied and told them that he didn’t care and other people’s opinion of him was none of his business. Bucky, however, had this strange effect on Steve that he wanted to be honorable and tell the truth. The whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“Is it good to hear? No. Definitely not. Especially when you’re getting accused of something that didn’t even happen yet. This is, apart from that one conversation months ago, the first time we talked outside the pub so why Sam is so on the fence about us talking, I’m not sure. And I’m honest here when I say I’m not planning on hurting anyone. It’s just…” Steve trailed off, realizing with shock how much he wanted to share with Bucky. He wanted to know everything about him, so it was just fair for him opening up as well. 

“You can tell me. I’m not judging you.” Just the way Bucky said these simple words drove Steve nearly insane. Because he believed them. Without a doubt. It was in the way he leaned down just a little bit, his voice getting softer - if that was even possible - and his eyes; when Steve looked up at Bucky, looking straight into his clear blue eyes, he knew he could trust him. 

Trust was dangerous, though. Sharing just a little bit too much could be the break it or make it point, the fine line between developing a relationship or pushing someone away. 

Steve looked at Bucky for a moment longer, taking in the stubble on his cheeks, strong jawline and the wavy hair framing his face. He didn’t expect anything from Steve in this moment; he just told him his truth, how he wouldn’t judge him; that much he could tell. The ball was in Steve’s court.

“It’s just, I wished for them to trust me more, you know? I’m not stupid. There’s a reason for Sam being this protective of you. For him to act like I was this ruthless person who’s just out for the next quick fuck or whatever he thinks I want from you? That hurts the most.”

Before Steve could say any more, he shoved the rest of the cream puff into his mouth, nearly choking on it. Bucky patted his back until he gave him a quick thumbs up, but didn’t pull his hand away immediately. 

“You okay?”

Steve nodded, feelings his cheeks burning; either from being too greedy or too embarrassed of his confession, he couldn’t say for sure. 

“Good. Let’s sit for a moment, kay?” Bucky guided them over to a bench and flopped down before he stretched his legs out. Steve followed suit and looked at Bucky’s dirty boots and then at his worn down chucks with the hole on the side. 

“Sam loves you.” Steve didn’t know what to expect from Bucky’s next words, but this wasn’t it. 

“Well, good for him. Didn’t think he swung that way.”

Again this little rumbling chuckle. “Not like that. He’s worried about you. He’s constantly worried about everybody. About you, me, Natasha, Clint. Sam is a big ball of worry. Sometimes he knows how to express his worries, and other times he doesn’t. Him yelling at you probably just shows that he has no idea how else to get through to you.”

“Politely. Asking for a quick talk without everyone around so they can’t gang up on me. Just as a start,” Steve suggested, knowing his scorned words were directed at the wrong person. 

“Probably.” 

They sat on the bench for a moment, the cold air making Steve shiver just slightly. This wasn’t exactly what he expected they would be doing on their first date/hang out/meeting/whatever this was. Steve had expected for them to flirt a bit and maybe ask each other about their favorite color, something stupid and light. Now sitting here, he felt as if it was no good. Maybe he had expected too much. Maybe the whole atmosphere, knowing his friends would give him an earful when they found out, made it hard for them to enjoy each other’s company; wary of the ulterior motives of the other.

Steve was ready to call it a day, apologizing for pushing Bucky to meet in the first place, when Bucky said, “When I told my parents I wanted to join the army, they immediately told me no.”

Dragging his eyes from their shoes up to Bucky, Steve waited for him to continue. 

“I didn’t know what to do after school, but I wanted to do something to make my family proud and that made money. The more my parents pushed me to look for something else, the more I got obsessed with the idea of enlisting. Even my little sister told me not to go. Once I joined, everything was fine for the longest time and I thought to myself my parents had no reason to be this concerned. What could go wrong, right?” Bucky put the bags of goods on his lap and dug for one of the tangerines which he handed to Steve. “Would you mind?” 

Steve peeled the fruit and handed one half to Bucky and kept the other, curious if Bucky would keep talking. He knew the purpose of the Raunchy Leprechaun. Sam told him it was Dugan and Bucky’s way of helping other vets back on their feet by hiring them, giving them a place where they were not alone and could work in their own space and pace. With that in mind, seeing Bucky, Steve had a good guess how he lost his arm, but he didn’t know more about it. He never asked Sam and he never dared asking Bucky. 

For a moment Bucky only nibbled on the tangerine, while he watched the people passing by. It took another good minute before he continued. 

“I haven’t spoken to them since I came back. I’m too ashamed. They were right and I was wrong. Every day I’m telling myself ‘You’ll call them today, don’t waste another minute’.” 

When Bucky shifted in his place, bag slipping down his lap and between Steve and him, he turned fully to Steve. “I think what I’m trying to say here is sometimes people around us can tell we’re about to do some stupid shit. And sometimes we’re just too stupid to admit we only do that shit regardless and to prove a point.”

Steve was mesmerized by Bucky’s eyes, the intensity underlined by his words. His whole body was tense to the point where it was painful and he needed to take a deep breath in order for him to ease up just a little bit. “Et tu, Brute?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not sitting here trying to tell you how to live your life. All I’m saying is, I understand both sides. You and Sam.”

“So you didn’t agree to see me to preach about monogamy and to live a celibate life?” Steve couldn’t look at Bucky anymore. Something inside his chest wasn’t feeling too good and for once, it wasn’t actually his heart itself. 

“I agreed because I thought I could figure you out, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh yeah? And what’s the result?” Steve could feel Bucky’s eyes on him, wandering from his face down his skinny frame to his hands resting in his hands, still holding the tangerine. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve seen the full picture yet. Something tells me you don’t want anyone else to see what you’re trying to hide.”

It wasn’t the first time someone told him he was hiding in plain sight and he felt called out. The thing with secrets were, the longer you kept them to yourself the harder it was showing them to others. He was at a point where he was obsessed with the idea of how his friends would react, how they would treat him. Would they be mad for keeping it away for so long? Would they turn their backs on him? The more time he took thinking about it, the more abhorrent the possible outcome became in his head. 

“What does Hold Fast mean to you?” 

Steve’s mind had gone astray again, getting lost in a frenzy of possible scenarios. Luckily, Bucky’s question reeled him back in and Steve’s eyes dropped to his inked fingers. Being caught so off guard had opened a door in his careful constructed wall, just a crack, but enough for him to speak without thinking as he watched Bucky taking the other half of the tangerine from Steve’s hand.

“Um, I mentioned my health? It’s kinda bad. I’m struggling with a bad bone structure, asthma, there’s talk of diabetes. I’ve been prone to get pneumonia, the flu. You heard of it, I probably had it at one point in my life. My mom was a nurse and she took really good care of me. I’d say she took even better care of me than of her own health. I was thirteen when she was diagnosed with cancer. They gave her three months. She got a year. I was very sick during her last days, but I tried pushing through it so I could be with her. One of the last things she said to me was ‘hold fast’.” His fingertips danced across the letters once again, his sight was getting blurry as he looked down at the ink. “It reminds me to never give up.” 

For a long time, they sat in silence. Slowly the cold was creeping into Steve’s bones, but he didn’t know how to break the quiet. Opening up to Bucky just now and sharing such a huge part of himself left him feeling exhausted. At least, a tiny voice said, Bucky didn’t run. 

He rubbed his hands and even blew into them and was relieved when Bucky said, “How about a hot tea or something? I think we deserve this after that conversation.” 

Despite the cold, Steve stayed put in his place and watched as Bucky got to his feet, looking at Steve with raised brows. “Unless you want to leave?”

“No. Not at all. I just, huh, I just thought you might want to leave,” Steve said truthfully as he slowly joined Bucky. “But tea sounds good. And maybe you can tell me how you met Dugan.” 

To Steve’s surprise, Bucky actually did tell him about how he met Dugan. And their story began at the VA. Steve laughed heartily when Bucky told him how Dugan kept following Bucky around, who didn’t want to talk to anybody. He just went to the meetings and left the second they were over. But Dugan kept asking questions, suggesting for them to meet outside the VA. Bucky kept ignoring him until the day he actually asked him why he wouldn’t leave Bucky alone.

[ ](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312/been-doing-stucky-bangs-for-a-few-years-now-and)

“And then he looked at me and said ‘Because I think you’d make a great barkeeper’,” Bucky concluded and joined Steve’s howling laughter. By then, they had settled into a small café with big armchairs, mismatching furniture and tasty little cookies they served on the side of their hot beverages. Steve and Bucky had been sitting on the only couch in the café for over an hour by then, laughing and joking and Steve could have listened to Bucky’s stories all day long.

“Can you imagine? My final surgery hadn’t been three months ago when he said that. Who in their right mind would hire a one-armed dude with no experience in that field? Let alone make him his partner.” 

“I can assure you, Buck, it wasn't your cocktail making skill that got him to hire you,” Steve chuckled which turned into another laughing fit when Bucky looked at him with big eyes. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Bucky hadn’t touched his last cookie, so Steve dared snatching it from his plate and snuggled into his corner of the couch again. From this angle, Steve had a good view of Bucky’s profile. His hair was brushed back behind his ears, accentuating his strong jawline. But Steve was far more fascinated with the straight line of his nose and plush lips. Every Roman sculptor would have killed to have Bucky as a model.

“Dugan might be straight, but he’s no dummy. You’re very handsome. I’d cut myself on that jawline if I hit you. Don’t get me started on those eyes. And when you’ve got that hair up in a bun? Chef’s kiss.”

Steve loved complimenting people. He was a firm believer that people didn’t do it enough and were actually starving for some nice words. And with Bucky it came easy, after all he was a gorgeous guy. Steve’s eyes had wandered more than once to his muscular thighs and broad chest. Now, however, as he looked at Bucky while saying what he thought of him, Steve was surprised to find him trying to disappear. As if each of Steve’s words were painful for him. 

“I mean it, Bucky. In a room full of people, I can’t help but looking at you and--”

“Please stop.” The haunted smile on those lips hurt Steve the most. It didn’t take a lot to understand where Bucky’s dislike was coming from. 

“But--”

“No, I mean it. Stop, Steve. What you see and what I see are two different things and…” Bucky trailed off, even turned his head away for a moment, before he addressed Steve again, “Promise me to not do that again if you wanna meet up again in the future.”

Steve could have pried, trying to convince Bucky what he said was the truth. But Steve was smarter than that. 

“Oh, you can bet I wanna meet up again. So I guess it’s safe to say you do too?” Bucky still had an option, no matter how little Steve liked it. So when Bucky started slipping back into his jacket, he even thought this would be it. Maybe this had been the fine line he hadn’t been allowed to cross and Sam warned him of. 

“What are you doing next Saturday?” Bucky asked casually. A whole week. Steve didn’t want to be greedy, but waiting a whole week for them to see each other again, just the two of them, seemed like a long time. He could have pushed a little, asking for another day or time, but he knew a gift when he saw one. 

“Usually I take a walk or visit one of the museums, to get some new inspiration. Maybe a walk along the High Line. What about you?”

Bucky nodded, patting his pockets one after another to make sure he had everything he needed. “What a coincidence. I was planning a walk along the High Line as well. Heard the light in the evening is the best.”

“Four is always best for me. Gives you time to have a little walk before enjoying the view.” 

“Maybe we’ll run into each other,” Bucky smiled as he got to his feet. 

“Maybe we will.”

After Bucky left, Steve decided to stay for another cup of tea, just a little downtime to think about the last couple of days. Steve’s life had never been slow, never a dull moment, and he realized how much he ached for it. Unfortunately, downtime also meant having a minute to think about everything he wanted to avoid; the reason why he constantly felt like he was on the run. Sadly he was slowly running out of air, so it was hard to guess how long he would be able to dodge all of his nightmares. 

Steve never went to therapy, always said he was fine. Nothing is fine when you lose your mother at such a young age. When you hit puberty, you don’t think about mortality, about the truth that is death. Especially not with a force like Sarah Rogers. The longer she could fight death off the more Steve became convinced she would beat her illness and stay forever. Next thing he knew, he was standing in front of a hole in the earth, watching raindrops hitting the wooden surface of the casket. For the longest time, he didn’t believe his mother actually had been in this undignifying wooden box, always expecting her to come through the door of Abraham’s house and telling him she had recovered. When he got sick, he even hallucinated her visits to the point Abraham even asked him who he was talking to. Knowing how much Abraham was doing for him and not wanting to hurt him, Steve told him he was talking to an imaginary friend, keeping his mother’s visits a secret. 

After his first heart surgery, his mother never visited him again. And then the time telling Abraham about it, about Steve wishing his mother into existence, passed. Once again, his physical health became the main focus of everyone’s life around him; mentioning he was close to a breaking point mentally didn’t seem like it would help the situation. And now, fourteen years later, he wished he had talked to Abraham. He wished he had told him how much he missed his mother and how losing her left him with a bunch of abandonment issues; how his health pushed his self-esteem down to the point he was pretending he had everything under control, getting a bit of confirmation from people he would never see ever again by staying with them for one night. Out of fear of them telling him he was just a fake who made others believe he wasn’t as broken as he was. A big mistake that wasn’t worth the hassle of having a relationship with. 

Sitting in this café, staring at the spot Bucky had vacated a while ago, Steve was drowning in too many thoughts. His whole body felt as if it was closing in on him, but whenever he tried redirecting his thoughts, thinking about his time with Bucky or their meeting in a week, just something cheerful, more and more doubts were filling his mind. So when his phone rang, he dug for it nearly desperately, as if it was a lifeline. 

“Hey Rogers, I thought about getting pizza and coming to crash at your place. You mind having a visit from your fav redhead?”

Natasha’s voice didn’t drown out all of Steve’s fear, but he could see a bit clearer now and he gladly accepted the distraction. 

“I’m at a café right now. How about in an hour? That works?”

“Kay, if you want anything else than your usual on your side of the pizza, text me.”

Steve’s actual plan had been stopping by at the VA to see Sam, having a short conversation, gauging the mood until Natasha called. Mainly because he still didn’t know why he had left the other night. Neither Natasha nor Clint had said anything, and Steve didn’t ask. After today’s talk with Bucky, maybe it was time for Steve and Sam to have a heart to heart as well.

The Falcon  
  
hey, here’s ur fav idiot speaking. u got time 4 me next week? 

Steve didn’t expect for Sam to reply right away, but before the screen went dark he saw the three dots appearing and then it buzzed.

The Falcon  
  
fav idiot u say? always. how about breakfast? next tuesday?   
👍

For some reason, Steve’s messed up mind thought Sam didn’t want to see him, so he was actually happy to find Sam being so open about meeting up. What he wasn’t so happy about was the fact that they needed to talk. Desperately. Steve wasn’t sure what he wanted to tell Sam, but they needed to get the elephant out of the room before it could shit on either of them.

Feeling at least a tiny bit better for now, Steve made his way home and even stopped at a store to get Natasha some of her favorite beer. By the time he stepped through his front door, he still had roughly thirty minutes before she would show up. It gave him time to get changed and clean the place a bit, although he knew Natasha didn’t care. 

So when the doorbell rang and she stepped in, the first thing she did was turn the lights off and then flop down on the couch. 

“No place like home,” she purred as she toed her shoes off and held the box of pizza out for Steve to take. Steve watched her, amused as he took the food.

“What? Do you wanna move in?” he asked her as he wandered to the kitchenette to get some plates and paper towels. 

“I might.” 

“What would Clint say if he knew you said that.” What was meant as a joke was met with silence, but after their breakthrough the day prior, he didn’t feel like probing. Instead he presented her the plate and bottle of beer before he nudged her feet for her to make room for him on the couch. 

“What do you wanna watch?” Steve tossed the remote to Natasha, giving her full reign of the evening. He guessed there was a reason for her to be here and he wanted to give her the chance to tell him the moment she was ready. 

“Drag Race,” was all Natasha said before scrolling through the options and found what she was looking for. They had watched the show a couple of times. It was entertaining to look at, but still gave them the chance to talk without missing anything if they wanted to. 

For the next two episodes they just sat there and watched while nibbling on their food, occasionally laughing at something one of the queens said. Natasha mentioned how much she would love to see Steve in drag, but he just giggled and waved her off. And then, out of nowhere, “I don’t want to have kids.”

It took Steve a moment to process what Natasha just said and make the connection where it was coming from. Right now, all he could do was guess, but he wouldn’t ask. Just sitting here, quietly, with her legs in his lap, he waited patiently to let her explain her statement if she wanted to. 

The silence between them stretched on for a bit longer, the only sound in the otherwise silent apartment was the low mumbling of voices coming from the TV. It was hard for Steve to read Natasha’s expression while sitting in the semi dark with only flashes of light from the screen illuminating her face. Looking at her in this moment, it didn’t even seem like she said anything at all and she would have been fine to not add anything further. 

“Clint knows. We talked about it when we were together. After all, he already has children with Laura. He said right away he wasn’t sure if he wanted more, and I got that. It was a relief.” Natasha shifted a bit as she reached for her bottle of beer, just cradling the glass in her hands. “And then we met Sam and--” 

Steve filled the blank Natasha left when she trailed off, remembering Sam stepping into the parlor. The way he leaned on the counter and looked at Natasha and how Natasha didn’t back down, but met him with equal confidence. In the past, Steve had seen a lot of people trying to impress her with their presence just to back down when they noticed she wasn’t a damsel in distress, ready to be swept away. Sam, however, wasn’t the slightest bit intimidated.

Natasha used the lull in her narrative to peel off the label of the bottle, folding and unfolding it, until the edges looked frazzled. “Clint is a great guy, but you were right when you said I was more myself when I was with Sam. I just--,” Natasha stopped again and just looking at her tense form, how she tried curling in on herself, physically pained Steve. 

“I didn’t want him to leave me because I made the decision not to be a mother. It’s just, it’s not for me, Steve. I see women with their babies and I can see they’re happy and I’m happy they’re happy. But that is not my idea of happiness. My views on that whole matter, people would think of me as a freak if I said them out loud.”

“I wouldn’t look at you as a freak,” Steve said quietly, trying to take the fear off of Natasha. 

She tossed the frayed label on the coffee table before taking a long swig from the bottle. And even after, she took another long moment before she said, “It was easier leaving Sam before he could leave me.”

Steve tried keeping his composure, but it was hard when he suddenly realized he wasn’t the only one punishing himself with his actions. He couldn’t tell what caused Natasha to be so cruel to herself, but it was definitely heartbreaking to see and hear. 

“What makes you think he would leave you? Did he say he wants to have kids?” 

Natasha shook her head, her red hair coming loose from the ponytail she had made before lying down. “We never talked about it. But could you imagine him without kids? Because I sure as hell can’t.”

Twice, Steve opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the right words to say. He could understand Natasha and her doubts, could understand her fear of getting too invested just for the other person to leave and being left heartbroken about it. What shocked Steve the most, however, was to see how scared Natasha seemed to be. Unshakable, strong Natasha was never scared of anything. Being allowed to see this side of her, seeing the carefully built wall slowly crumbling was humbling; Steve felt as if he was looking in a mirror. 

“Tell me it’s none of my fucking business, but why don’t you want kids?” The second the question hung in the air, Steve was ready to slap himself. It was, after all, none of his business and not the reason why Natasha opened up to him. But maybe by understanding her reasons, he could give her - if she wanted - advice what to do. 

Natasha scoffed before emptying her bottle of beer and looking around for more.

“There’s another one in the fridge,” Steve told her and watched her get up to walk over to the kitchenette. 

He nearly expected her to ignore his question, as it was her right to do, but then she spoke into the light of the open fridge, “I just don’t think I would be a good mom. I’m far too selfish for kids. You have to give up a part of yourself, and I can’t see that for me. Maybe it might change in five, ten years. I don’t know. But right now?” She straightened up and kicked the door shut with her foot, beer in hand. “I can’t see that. And I don’t want a discussion about it either. When guys say they don’t want kids, people always say that’s fine, that’s their right to say. When women say they don’t want kids? Huh, quite the different story.”

Steve nodded understandingly, watching her returning to the couch. This time, she rested her head in his lap, staring up at the ceiling. “And you think Sam would be the kind of person who would try to convince you?”

Natasha shrugged, holding firmly onto the beer bottle she balanced on her stomach. “I dunno.”

“Does Clint know that you, I mean--” Saying Natasha was still in love with Sam would overstep one too many boundaries and he didn’t want to risk breaking whatever fragile moment was happening right now.. 

“I’m just living at Clint’s place. We’re not a couple anymore. Haven’t been for a while.” 

Steve knew he looked stupid with his mouth hanging open, but it was pretty much the only reaction he was capable of. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Steve. We never said we were together after Sam and I--” 

It was hard for Steve coming up with anything to say, just something to tell Natasha everything would work out in the end. Before he could find the words, though, Natasha got up again and walked over to the wardrobe where her jacket was. There was no use probing, so Steve gave her the breather she was silently asking for. He did hear her rummaging through her jacket, something dropping to the floor as she went to pick it up, but he still stayed in place. 

“What is this?” 

Turning his head, he tried to make out Natasha in the semi dark of the apartment, still only illuminated by the pictures flickering over the screen of the TV. It took another moment before Natasha flicked the light switch on, and then one more moment for Steve’s eyes to adjust to the light. He then saw the white envelope in her hand with the hundred dollar bills sticking out. 

When Steve got ready this morning to meet with Bucky, he quickly tossed the envelope on the little table next to the door where he kept his keys. Better to leave it at home rather than risk carrying it around in his bag, he had thought then. Now he thought he was stupid. 

“Money?” Steve knew his answer wouldn’t cut it. After all he constantly told everyone around him the money he made was barely enough for his rent and food. That none of his friends had called him out by now, knowing how good of an artist he was and what he charged for his work, was a miracle by itself. Having now a huge stack of money right before her, Natasha wouldn’t give up this easily. 

“I can see that. How much is this? Two thousand? Three? Casually lying around in your apartment in an envelope?”

Steve’s whole body ached for him to let out one, big, giant, desperate yell, the frustration of the whole situation getting to him. By the time Natasha was returning to him, planting herself in front of him, he had his face buried in his hands. 

“Are you selling drugs? Is that what this is about? Why you disappear for a couple of days every other month?”

Instead of a yell, Steve released a nearly hysterical giggle, not believing what he was hearing. “Really? Drugs?” 

It would be the best moment to come clean. He could have easily told Natasha about his health, about him staying at home for days on end every other month because his body wouldn’t allow him to get up. He had the scar to prove it. He had parts of his health record here, right at home to show her. He could have called Abraham as a witness. Instead he looked at Natasha sorrowful, lips sealed shut. 

“I asked you a question, Steve. What is this about? Are you putting money aside to get your own studio? Is that it?”

“Sheesh, really? That’s what you think of me?” When Steve got up, he also took the money from Natasha, walking past her and dumping the envelope between his art books. He knew somewhere in there was another one, filled with more money Abraham had given him on his birthday. Every scenario Natasha came up with seemed more and more horrible, although the drugs part was quite amusing to him, given the fact that he didn’t think he looked like a drug dealer. And while he knew the imagination could make a mountain out of a molehill, he still couldn’t find it in him to say his truth. Which made looking at Natasha again all the more painful. Her arms crossed, anger and disappointment battling on her face as her green eyes tried to make him speak up. 

“You know what? Forget it. For the past hour I’ve been sitting here and told you about me. I’ve told you things no one else knows.” It was hard to watch, to see Natasha trying to keep her composure while her eyes were slowly welling up. 

“No one--” Steve looked away when Natasha’s voice cracked, seeing her from the corner of his eyes wiping the tears away furiously. “I trusted you. I did. And look at what good it did for me. You constantly keep your secrets and no one calls you out on that bullshit, but I’ve had enough. If you want to be alone, then fine. Be alone. I’m done. I can’t work with someone who won’t trust me. You and your precious little secrets--”

“It’s easy for you to fucking talk!” Steve roared at her, fists clenched. Steve never got loud. It just wasn’t his style and he was a firm believer that yelling didn’t solve anything. So he was surprised to hear his own voice booming through his apartment. And for a moment it shocked him into silence before he said a lot quieter, “You’re getting upset at me for not telling you about my savings, but you keep flirting with Clint and then you’re sitting here and telling me you guys broke up months ago. Everyone has secrets.”

“There’s a difference between having secrets and not sharing fucking anything about yourself. What about your parents? Huh? Any particular reason why you never mentioned what happened to them? What about Abraham? For so long we all thought he was your father, Steve. Your father. He never told you, I’m sure of it, but you should’ve seen his face when he realized you never mentioned your mom or your dad to any of us.”

Steve’s cheeks burned and he had to avert his eyes, incapable of looking at Natasha any longer. He didn’t speak of his parents because it always threw him into a major depression. And how did one go about it? Just casually mentioning that you’re an orphan and killing the mood? Hey, sorry, just wanted to let you know, while you’re talking about father’s day and what you got your mom for her birthday, my parents died tragically many, many years ago. Just so you know why I don’t mention them. Anyone up for another drink? 

The silence was deafening and the longer it lasted, the harder it became for Steve to move. Natasha was still standing in front of him; he could feel her eyes on him, but he was too scared to look at her directly, afraid of what he would see.

“So that’s it? You don’t have anything to say? About anything?” It was admirable for Natasha to keep hoping for Steve to change his mind, but he knew even she had her breaking point and was already pushing past it. So after another moment of nothing, of them just standing opposite of each other, Natasha turned on her heel and headed for the door.

She never looked back, just grabbed her jacket and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Natasha called in sick the next day. Or rather she sent a very formal note to their business email, letting Steve know she had postponed this week's appointments, but would gladly accept phone calls at home from any potential new customers. Steve already had a hard time reading her message, his eyes feeling like sandpaper after the night he had. Once Natasha had gone, he hadn’t had many options left. He couldn’t drink himself into a stupor, so he’d turned to the one thing he could do without hurting anyone: Going to bed and sleeping for as long as possible. If only his body could have gotten with the program. Whenever he’d slowly started to drift off, his brain had provided him with another horror scenario. If Natasha was this mad at him for not speaking about his past or life in general, he had a good guess what the others had to say. What if they all had enough of him? Then he had managed to alienate each and every one of them without coming clean to any of them. Good job, well done.

And when his mind wasn’t providing him with pictures of a future without any friends, he would think about his inability to reach out to his doctor and schedule a check up. He knew it was overdue, he knew it needed to be done. It became even more apparent because Abraham was constantly mentioning it when they spoke, and Abraham never addressed any of Steve’s issues because he didn’t see them as one. 

Eventually Steve had fallen asleep, but only for roughly an hour before he had to get ready for work. He was dreading meeting Natasha, but he promised himself he would try and talk to her. Maybe just a simple ‘I’m not sure how to tell you, but I will’. So while a tiny piece of him had hoped for him and Natasha to talk, it wasn’t too surprising with her being absent. Although she only mentioned missing that day, something told Steve he wouldn’t see her for quite some time and it stung. Especially because he knew it was solely his fault. 

Not having much to do made it even worse. If you have something to keep your mind busy, time flies. Right now he sat in front of a blank piece of paper and tried doing a sketch for a customer. The appointment was still far away, but he liked having his things in order. Unfortunately he couldn’t focus and so the day dragged on. As expected Natasha sent another email on Monday and it really screwed into him how badly he messed up.

That was why he wasn’t too enthused about his breakfast date with Sam on Tuesday. He loved his friends, all of them, but he couldn’t be sure if Natasha had spoken with him or not. And Sam, always being the blunt one, wouldn’t hold back if he knew about their fight. Things had been going too smoothly for too long; he should’ve known something was lurking just around the corner to bite him in the ass. 

Still he tried going into their meeting with an open mind and an open heart. Now that he thought about it, he couldn’t even remember the last time he and Sam did something together. It would be a welcoming change for once. Unless it would all blow up in his face, like his night with Natasha. He even wondered if Sam would show up at all. He had been sitting in this tiny café for the past ten minutes and Sam was nowhere to be seen. Then again, Steve was also a bit too early, glad to have a distraction from the last couple of days. However, whenever the door opened, Steve immediately looked up to check if Sam finally arrived and when he walked in and spotted Steve, Sam gave him a big, toothy smile. A smile Steve gladly returned because it meant everything was alright between the two of them for now.

“So good to see you,” Sam grinned as he pulled Steve in for a hug and out of the chair. “Although you don’t look too good, what happened? Too much going on at the parlor?”

Sam was always busy, always jumping into the conversation right away. He once told Steve the reason why he was so blunt was simply because it saved time. 

“Somewhat. Nat called in sick. Won’t be coming back until next week, it seems.” It was just a guess, although Steve’s gut feeling told him he probably should look for either a new business partner or a smaller studio. 

Steve watched Sam shrugging out of his leather jacket and sitting down opposite of him, listening intently. “Do you know what’s wrong with her?”

Sam’s question was clearly genuine and it gave Steve the chance to come up with some cover up story, but he knew it would only get worse from there. So Steve took a deep breath, trying to stifle the cough building up in his throat, before he said, “Let’s order breakfast and then I’ll tell you about everything. I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

The way Sam looked at Steve made Steve feel uneasy. “What? You want to break up with me? That’s why we met in public?” Despite the easy tone, Sam seemed cautious. Then again it could have been just Steve’s mind already bracing himself for the worst. 

“ No, I’m not breaking up with anyone.” But maybe you will, a tiny voice inside Steve said and he was glad for the waitress when she came to take their orders or otherwise he probably would have said it out loud. 

They waited until their drink orders arrived and by then Steve knew there was no chance Sam would give him any more time so he took a breath to mentally prepare himself.

“So?”

“Nat and I had a huge fight on Saturday. Massive. Big.”

Sam sipped on his coffee, eyes focused intently on Steve. And Steve knew how this would go. Sam would let him talk and talk and talk until there was nothing else to say anymore and then Sam would ask questions. But all that would change once he would mention Bucky, which was also part of the plan. However, this would be a problem for later. Now he took the subtle cue for him to continue.

“We talked about her. And Clint. And, well, you. Nothing too deep. And we only talked about it because--” Steve’s ailing heart was in his throat, making it hard for him to form a sentence that made even a little sense. He was fully aware his fight with Nat was only the tip of the iceberg and with Sam sitting opposite of him, he was now lurking underneath the surface to see what he really was to expect. 

“Because of the comments I get when we’re out.” There was a short moment Steve expected for Sam to explode like he always did when this matter was brought up, but instead he kept watching Steve camly, patiently waiting. 

“I thought it was unfair for you guys ganging up on me about my personal business, but there’s a whole other elephant in the room and while we normally manage to navigate around it, it’s still there. So we talked and she explained some things, and how I was - surprisingly - right. And then she found something in my apartment and because I didn’t want to give an answer, we got into a fight.” 

Somewhere along his story he couldn’t look at Sam anymore. Instead he cast his eyes down to his own fingers, the letters on his knuckles, and then staring for a few quiet moments to the compass on his right and the globe on the back of his left hand. 

“Yeah, I know your tatts are great, but I need a bit more than that. What did Nat find and what was it you didn’t want to answer?”

Steve was already expecting for Sam to want to know more, but it still didn’t make answering any easier. Not even the waitress showing up with their food and giving him another minute could slow his heart down. Talking about this stuff was like pulling teeth. When you spend so long pushing everything down it goes against every instinct in him to try and pull something up.

“She found an envelope with money.”

Sam raised a brow.

“A lot of money.”

There was a sigh and a ‘come to the point’ expression while Sam patiently cracked his egg.

“Three thousand. Give or take.” Steve had looked at it the night prior as he gathered all the envelopes Abraham had given him, telling himself he would get it to the bank in the next couple of days. The idea of having that much money around him still gave him an uneasy feeling, but it also meant half of his worries were taken care of. However, saying the sum of that one envelope out loud, remembering Natasha’s face when he didn’t give her an explanation, made him feel like a liar. A fraud. He was pretending to be someone he just was not and by not talking about everything attached to his real self made the lie even more convincing. At least for a tiny bit. 

Now a part of it was out in the open and he was waiting for Sam’s judgment, but when Steve looked from his plate with scrambled eggs up to him, he found Sam simply looking at him in return. Once again waiting for Steve to keep going, although Steve thought he saw a little strain to Sam’s jaw that hadn’t been there before. 

“Her point was, she was spilling the beans and, uh, I didn’t and--”

“And I agree with her on this completely. I’m saying this with the utmost respect, Steve, but we both know you like to keep pretty much your whole life to yourself.”

It was true that Steve kept a lot of his life to himself, however, he never felt as if he was such a big mystery to the people around him. So now he was sitting here across from Sam and looking at him with heartbreak in his eyes. 

“How long have we known each other?” Sam asked, breakfast completely forgotten. 

“Two years. Give or take.”

Sam nodded. “How many times have you met my parents?”

Steve was shifting in his seat. “I dunno.”

“Guess. Just a number.”

“Thirty? Forty times?” 

Sam seemed happy with that and so he went on. “And how many times did I meet Abraham?”

The point was made, Steve was ready to surrender, but he had brought it all up and now he had to deal with it. “Maybe five? Six times?”

“Three times. Two times completely accidentally and the third time I had Natasha call me so I could run into you at the parlor.” 

Unfortunately, Steve wasn’t a magician so he couldn’t disappear, but he still managed to shrink in on himself, arms wrapped around his body in an attempt to vanish. “You did that?”

“Hell yeah I did that. It is your decision to keep your life private, but you’ve got to understand it’s hard for me or for anyone to understand. I know there’s Abraham, who you mention every now and then. But no one knows why you grew up at his place. What happened to your parents. Why you don’t want us to get to know him. I never mentioned any of this before because I never wanted you to feel like you’re under attack. Because you’re not. I’m your friend and as a friend, it concerns me seeing you constantly closing yourself off.”

A tiny part inside Steve wanted to argue how no one ever asked him about it directly either, but he knew Sam was right. Even with any of them asking him directly, he would have thrown up his walls and found a way around it. 

“I’m not sure what’s going on in that brain of yours, why you do that, but whatever reason you have, tell us at least this much.” Sam said as he pinched his fingers together to indicate the amount. “Just enough for us to understand and see that, yeah, there is no need to worry about Steve.”

And wasn’t it funny how this was exactly what Steve had tried to avoid, for them to be concerned. But even without telling any of his ailments, any of his past, they were worried. 

“You want me to shut up or can I say one more thing?” Sam asked into the silence, ripping Steve from his musings. For a second Steve just wanted this whole conversation to be gone and forgotten, but he had been the one bringing it all to the surface. His face felt hot from getting so worked up about everything. So with a short nod, he gave Sam the okay to keep going. 

“I love your weird, tattooed ass a whole lot. So whatever you think you can’t tell me, I want you to know I’ll never judge you for anything.”

It felt good hearing these words from Sam, although a part of Steve already knew. All of his friends were amazingly warm and welcoming and loyal to a fault, and yet he was afraid about what could change. He felt the smile tugging on his lips, eyes searching Sam’s. “Huh, that’s funny. Bucky said the same. About you loving me.”

The second the words left his mouth, Steve knew he was in trouble. The connection they had just built, taking tentative steps towards each other, abruptly ended as Sam sat up just that much straighter. 

“Bucky?” Sam sat up straighter.

“Promise me you won’t be mad, Sam.” Another wrong thing to say, but Steve was stumbling, mind scrambling to find a way to fix what they had so carefully just created. For a moment he was afraid Sam would just get up and leave, instead he flopped back against his chair, eyes daring him to explain what was going on. 

“We met at the farmer’s market last Saturday and had coffee after. Just him and me talking. We might even see each other again next Saturday.”

Steve felt as if he was standing at the bottom of a volcano; he could feel the little tremors, see the smoke rising, but it was still hard to say if the volcano would erupt or not. All he could do was hold his breath and hope for the best. 

It was hard looking into Sam’s eyes, the intensity they were burning with were scorching and Steve felt ready to combust. 

“As I said, I love you. Very much. But I promise you, if you pull any of your weird stunts, if you lead him on, we’ll have a very serious conversation. I’m not joking. This man--” Sam wiped a hand over his mouth, and Steve realized he had never seen him so agitated. “It’s not my story to tell, but he has been through hell and back. He just got his footing back and it won’t take much to take it away again. Just do me a favor and keep that in mind if you decide to keep seeing him again. Apparently, he likes you.”

“No pressure, huh?” 

The look Sam gave Steve let him sink even deeper in his spot. “I’m dead serious, Steve. If you hurt him, I don’t want to hear a word from you. Ever.”

What had started as a nice get together had turned far too quickly into a tiny disaster. Of course he could start loading all of his issues in front of Sam in an attempt to explain why he was as fucked up as he was. But where to start? The abandonment issues because of the death of his mother? How about the fear of being left behind because he wasn’t healthy enough, whole enough, good enough? It wouldn’t do. Not now, at least. Trying to let Sam in now would only cause him to expect for Steve to do his worst, already delivering the excuse and apology before it was necessary. 

And like his time with Sam, the whole week dragged along. Each day without Nat in the studio felt more and more lonely. Steve didn’t know how many times he had picked up his phone to call her, just to hang up before he entered the last number. He had no idea what to say to her, no explanation and a way for this to get better. 

When Saturday rolled around, he was still feeling like shit, but the prospect of spending the evening with Bucky definitely improved his mood immensely, helping him ignore the dread of disappointing everyone around him which clung to him like wet clothes. Seeing as Nat was still not in the studio, Steve closed early, grabbing his graphite pencils and a new sketchbook on his way out. For once he even made it on time, thanking the New York underground for their service. When he arrived at Penn Station and headed towards the start of the High Line, he could already tell it would be rather busy, some tourists trying to find their way around while staring at maps on their phones blocking the sidewalk. 

Most of them headed up the stairs that lead them to the starting point and Steve was tempted to follow. Maybe Bucky was already up there, but he decided to give him another five minutes before checking the upper level. In the meantime, he pulled his beanie over his ears and watched the people passing by, noticing the little coffee stand across the street. It wasn’t too cold, but Steve knew despite his layers of clothing he would be sooner or later, and if he wanted to use his fingers to draw, something to warm them would be a good idea. He even got another one for Bucky, expecting him to arrive any minute now. Yet the minutes crept by and slowly Steve started to worry. When he checked his phone, he saw it was already way past four but there was no message from Bucky explaining his absence. Holding his cup with his teeth and putting the already cold coffee for Bucky down on the stairs, Steve typed a quick message

Buckaroo  
  
u okay??? 

Maybe Bucky had been busy or changed his mind; Steve wouldn’t hold either against him. Right now he just wanted to make sure he was doing fine. After his conversation with Sam, Steve found himself thinking about Bucky more than once. Multiple times a day, really. If he was honest, Steve thought a whole lot about Bucky. He wondered what he was doing. What his apartment would look like? Did he finally call his parents? What was his favorite food? Steve was an adult, well, barely, but adult enough to know what him mooning over Bucky all day every day actually meant. He just avoided putting a name to it. Naming it would make it become reality and Steve was a master at avoidance. Right now he was thinking about an idolized version of Bucky, knowing too little about the real person, although something told him he would be completely lost in his feelings for him once he would allow him in. He had heard his laughter and found it warming his every core. He had seen his eyes and realized he could get lost in them. He had noticed his wits and smartness and wanted to get pulled into his thoughts.

“Behind you.”

So startled by these words, Steve dropped his cup of coffee and his phone nearly followed if it hadn’t been for Bucky catching it, handing it back with a small smile.

“Sorry I’m late. I--”

Steve took the phone and smiled back, waiting for Bucky to continue, but instead he trailed off. “It’s fine. I mean, who could have thought we would run into each other here. Of all places.”

It took a moment for another weak smile to tug on Bucky’s lips, one that didn’t reach his eyes. Tired eyes. Eyes with deep shadows underneath them. 

“You up for a lil’ walk?” Steve didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but something told him Bucky wanted to be anywhere but here. Still he wanted to try, maybe get Bucky’s mind off of whatever was bothering him. It took Bucky a moment to respond, just a short nod of his head before they climbed the stairs leading up to the High Line. 

As expected the pathway was crowded and it took Steve a moment to get through the groups of people who all wanted a souvenir picture of them starting their walk. Once they moved past it, they only encountered little groups here and there, some strolling along, others taking a moment to admire the view. Steve and Bucky just sauntered along. Occasionally Steve would stop and take a picture of one of the murals painted on the side of a building or art installations which framed some benches. All the time they were silent and Steve already had half a mind cancelling the rest of the trip altogether. He didn’t want to pressure Bucky; Sam’s words about how he went through a lot still ringing in his ears. 

“Sorry.” 

The word was spoken so softly, at first Steve thought he had misheard. 

“I’m not good company right now. Maybe I should--” Bucky stopped and inhaled deeply through his nose, turning his head to look out at the piers. 

“I think you’re the best company. You don’t wanna talk? Then don’t. Do you want me to do that? Just tell me. Tell me to keep my mouth shut. If you don’t want to be alone and keep me company instead, I’d love nothing more.” Steve dared reaching for Bucky’s hand, tugging gently on it. “Your choice. But don’t say you should leave because you think I can’t stand silence. I can fill that silence for two.” 

Steve just realized it was the first time they actually touched. Bucky’s hand was warm, fingers rough either from the cold or his job, but he didn’t mind. In fact he waited for Bucky to pull away, maybe even tell him to keep his distance. Instead, he slowly turned his head and looked down at Steve, a ghost of a real smile dancing across his lips. 

“Then tell me about yourself,” Bucky finally said. 

He didn’t pull his hand away, but he didn’t return the hold either, just letting Steve grab his fingers as they slowly continued their way. For a couple of steps Steve let their connection linger before letting go and fixing the strap of his bag. 

“Lemme think,” Steve mused for a moment before jumping right in. “Let me tell you the story about a tattoo rookie, that’s me, and one of his first customers. And when I say rookie, I mean I had been working as a tattoo artist for roughly a year. But you always learn. Anyway, here I was, eager to make a name for myself and I already had a bit of a reputation going on when a woman came into the store.” Once again Steve stopped to take a picture, finding that Bucky was actually looking at him, waiting for him to continue. “She told me she heard of me and that I could do pretty much everything and how she wanted a traditional japanese landscape tattooed on her. Sounds good so far, right?”

Steve checked the picture he took on the display of his camera and continued walking when he found he was happy with the result. “She showed me the inspiration picture and I’m already excited. It’s just black and grey with some kanjis in red. Very easy, maybe a bit too easy, but I liked the idea. She told me she wanted it around her hip and I already thought ‘Hun, this will hurt like a bitch, but who am I to talk you out of it’. Two days later I had the stencil ready and everything set up when she came back in, saying she had thought about changing the position of the tattoo and you know where I actually tattooed her?”

When Steve looked over at Bucky, seeing something close to a grin on his face, he knew he was on the right track. 

“Her vagina. She wanted that motive starting from her right hip, over her vagina and fading out on her left hip. And when I say vagina I mean the whole thing. Not only her pubic mound. I have seen many vaginas up close in my life, but never this personal.”

For a moment Steve was worried he told the wrong story, reminding Bucky about his other reputation as a slut, but then he heard him actually snort. 

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. I swear. This was one for the history books. I was even allowed to take a picture of it for my portfolio. So I do have proof in case you doubt my words.”

A smile still spread over Bucky’s lips, he raised a hand. “No thanks. But I appreciate the offer. Actually that’s my go to answer when women hit on me.”

“Not much into vaginas?”

“Never have and never will.”

“I also have dick stories.”

“I have no doubt about that either.” 

Steve couldn’t say for sure if Bucky’s come back was meant with malice or not, but he was still smiling although it was slowly fading, leaving Steve grappling for another fun story to tell. 

Before Steve could say another word, though, Bucky blurted out, “My phantom pain is back. I haven’t slept much in the last week. Haven’t been to work either. I thought I was past this.”

The confession was unexpected. So unexpected Steve had no idea what to say, just staring at Bucky as he leaned on the railing of the High Line. “I shouldn’t have said that. You’re trying to cheer me up and here I am dumping my problems on you. I dunno what I was thinking. I’m sorry, Steve. I really am. You deserve more than hearing me whine. I probably--”

“I need heart surgery.”

The words were out before Steve could think about it twice. It pained him to see Bucky struggling through his statement, apologizing for his feelings and what he was going through. As it seemed, though, the shock of Steve’s own words ripped him out of his apology. 

Before Steve continued, he closed the gap between them, sidling up next to him and looking out at the skyline. “I don’t want to make this about me. I just want to say, I know how it feels like when your body is failing you.”

Steve hadn’t realized how cold he had been until he was pressed up against Bucky’s side, his warmth seeping through his thick military jacket and Steve’s wool coat into him as he was tempted to lean in even closer. Instead he focused on his words. “I had a bad case of strep throat when I was thirteen. My mom had just passed away of cancer, so no one thought it was weird for me to stay in bed for days. By the time we went to the hospital it had affected the heart valves. For a while I got by with meds, but eventually I needed surgery. They told me I would need another one and I’m already pushing my luck as it is. Unfortunately with all the other crap I’m dealing with, there was only one surgeon who would do it and he’s in Cleveland. I’m trying to save up as much as I can before heading out there just to keep the debt as low as possible. But the longer I wait--”

Steve couldn’t continue, feeling as each word was slowly choking him. He had no idea why he was telling Bucky all of this, if his fight with Nat and talk with Sam had anything to do with it, but he was petrified. Afraid of Bucky’s reaction, afraid of the surgery, and by saying it all out loud, it became real. The fear, the pain, the uncertainty. 

He didn’t expect for Bucky’s arm to wrap around him, pulling him closer into his warmth. He didn’t expect the weight of Bucky’s head against the crown of his own, engulfing him like a blanket. He didn’t expect any of it, but he needed it and appreciated it. Steve even dared slipping one of his arms around Bucky’s trim waist under the military jacket. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I swear, if you apologize one more time,” Steve chuckled, only then realizing how close he had been to tears. 

“We make quite the pair, huh?”

When Steve shifted, he did so carefully, not wanting to give the impression that he wanted to let go. Just enough for him to look up at Bucky, trying to gauge what those words meant. But Bucky didn’t elaborate and Steve wanted to keep the illusion up, even if only for the moment. 

“Can I draw you?” Steve had wanted to draw Bucky the moment he saw him for the first time. He couldn’t say why he asked him now, maybe because the light just hit his face right, the shadows accentuating his sharp features even more. 

He nearly expected for Bucky to tell him no, when he saw his lips moving, “Is it okay if we stick to a portrait?”

Steve could hardly believe his luck, nodding excitedly. Lucky for them, the couple sitting on the bench behind them decided to leave, giving them the perfect spot to work at. Being the bold person he was, Steve told Bucky how to sit, which way to face before settling down next to him; the sketchbook and pencils appearing as if by magic. He missed the warmth they had shared, but he wanted to believe that this was just the beginning.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” It seemed like an odd question. After all Bucky mentioned his pains himself, but maybe the moment was gone and Steve really didn’t want to push his luck.

“Can I talk?” Bucky asked and Steve noticed his eyes searching for him. 

“Of course you can. If you want to.”

A moment passed and Steve wondered if he decided to keep his story to himself, but then he started softly. 

“You hear about it. When you’re in the army. Someone knows someone who lost his leg, his arm, and they have all kinds of horror stories. The thing about horror stories is, you never believe they will happen to you.” Bucky reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled a chapstick out. He quickly used it, even offering it to Steve who puckered his lips for Bucky to apply it. It was a sweet moment, one that made Bucky laugh. But then the chapstick was gone and so was the laugh. 

“They said phantom pains are a psychological problem. They keep telling you, you need to let go. Your limb won’t come back. Yeah, no shit, Sherlock.” 

The bitterness in Bucky’s words hurt Steve. Not because it was directed at him, but because he knew there was nothing he could do to make it go away. Bucky was in pain. Not only physically, but also emotionally, and Steve wondered if this was what Sam had warned him about. 

“In reality the pain stems from the spinal cord and the brain. No one can tell me when or even if it might go away.”

Bucky’s portrait wasn’t finished. Steve barely had started, but he couldn’t continue, his hand was too shaky. His heart went out to Bucky, feeling so helpless in the face of such a burden. Words failed him and because Steve had always been a touchy person, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Bucky’s. Too many things could have gone wrong, the realization of him overstepping too many boundaries hitting him way too late. What if Bucky thought he was taking advantage of him? What if he was disgusted for the way Steve was throwing himself at him?

All these thoughts were silenced when Steve felt Bucky’s fingertips against his cheek, careful as if he didn’t want to scare him away. Then he cupped his face, thumb brushing over the spot he just explored with the pads of his fingers. Steve heard his pencils fall down to the ground as he moved and mimicked Bucky’s touch, excited when he felt the stubble long his jawline. 

Bucky was the first to break the kiss, just lips carefully exploring each other, but his hand kept holding Steve’s face. 

“If that’s the reaction I get for each of my sob stories, I might have to come up with some more,” he whispered between them, breath caressing Steve’s skin. 

“No sob story needed.” 

If Steve thought him initiating the kiss was a bad idea, he decided he should make bad choices more often. Because after this kiss followed another and then another. Bucky was one of the most attentive kissers Steve ever encountered. When he noticed he did something Steve liked, he would do it again. Be it a gentle nip on his bottom lip or his thumb brushing over the spot right under where his lobe connected with his jaw. Then again Steve wasn’t any better. Once he had picked up his art supplies, he focused his whole attention on the man in front of him. How his lips tugged up into a smile before they kissed, how he tasted of cinnamon - his chewing gum as Steve later found out. 

After ten more minutes of kissing, they decided people probably had seen enough PDA for the day and headed home. Steve held onto Bucky on the train ride home, arms circling his waist while he held onto the handle. They spoke about their plans for the next week, settling on a more official date next Wednesday. Just the two of them and a movie. Steve contemplated suggesting a night at either of their places, but he wanted to do this right. And doing it right maybe meant taking it slow. When they parted at the station, they did so with another kiss. Just a quick brush of lips. Steve nearly skipped all the way back home once it hit him how real it all was.

So real, it pushed him to act. When Sunday morning rolled around, he immediately called Dr Jeong’s office. He nearly expected no one to answer and was all the more surprised when it was Dr Jeong himself picking up the phone. 

Dr Jeong told Steve he had him marked in his schedule, a friendly call to remind Steve of their yearly examination which was long overdue. Steve apologized, explaining to him how he was still trying to save as much money as possible, but knew it was time for them to meet. Luckily, the doctor told him he would be in New York on Monday for a convention, but he could make time to see him at one of his colleagues’ practice the following day so Steve didn’t have to travel. It was a nice offer Steve gladly took and he considered it a stroke of fate he had called him exactly on this day. When he hung up, he texted Bucky.

Buckaroo  
  
u r my lucky charm. called my doc n he will c me next week   
1st time in weeks I could sleep through the night ;) who’s the lucky charm now?  
lemme think...u?   
stupid...can’t wait 4 wednesday. 

Steve was overflowing with glee, he couldn’t even come up with a response. So he just sunk back into his pillows and pressed his phone against his face. Even hours later he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. 


	5. Chapter 5

When Steve opened the parlor Monday morning, he didn’t expect to see Natasha. He was actually so shocked to find her at her desk, he stopped dead in his tracks and stared at her for a good minute. 

“We’re adults. Get over it,” was all she said and it was enough to rip Steve out of his stupor and keep him moving. He even dared approach her to catch her up on everything she had missed. Not once did they speak about their argument at Steve’s apartment, always focusing on business matters. There was a short moment Steve was sure he was about to say something, but then he found her looking at him, a warning not to push it, and he went back to work. 

He had opened up about his life to Bucky, why was it so hard to do the same with the others? Usually, Steve never had a problem naming the problem. He could even tell where it stemmed from. So this was a first and more than a little frustrating. At least he had his appointment with his doctor and his date with Bucky to look forward to. Maybe once he talked to Dr Jeong he could think more clearly because regardless if he wanted to admit it or not, the impending surgery terrified him. 

When it was time for them to close the shop, Steve knew he had to talk to Natasha because of his upcoming appointment. 

“I’m coming in a bit later tomorrow,” he started as he shrugged his jacket on. Steve had said these words multiple times in the past, but never elaborated. This time, however, he went on, “I have a doctor’s appointment. I hope it won’t take too long, but I should be here around ten-ish.”

If he was honest, he didn’t expect any reaction from Natasha. After all it didn’t seem so groundbreaking for him to add that bit of information. Yet, when he turned around from his desk, ready to call it a day, he found her looking at him from across the room, eyes wide in surprise. 

“Unless you’ve got something to take care of. Then we should put a note at the door, letting people know we will open later.”

But Natasha just shook her head. “I’m here. I just, well, thanks for letting me know.”

Of course Steve couldn’t be sure because at times Natasha was hard to read, but somehow these words held more to it. Something along the lines of ‘Take care’.

Back home he was still thinking about it, but then got easily distracted by texting back and forth with Bucky until Steve just fell asleep. It was nice waking up with another text that read ‘keeping my fingers crossed’. 

The office Dr Jeong used for his time in New York was located at the New York-Presbyterian and while it didn’t take Steve long to get there, by the time he arrived he felt as if he had travelled for days. Anxiety was sitting tight in his muscles despite Dr Jeong’s friendly greeting. For a while they just sat in the office, Dr Jeong asking Steve about his life and Steve enquiring about Dr Jeong’s family. The shift from small talk to questions relevant to the appointment was fluent. So fluent that Steve, at first, didn’t notice. 

“Any new tattoos?

“No, didn’t have the time.”

“How is your business going? Anything you need to stress about?”

“Kinda. My partner and I are thinking about parting.”

“I see. And other than that? Trouble sleeping? Picked up any bad habits? Other than your forbidden cup of coffee?”

Yeah, this guy was good. Steve didn’t know they were in the middle of examination until Dr Jeong actually asked him to undress down to the belt. For a moment he just blinked at him stupidly and then did what he was asked of. 

Dr Jeong listened to Steve’s heartbeat, checked his lungs and blood pressure, before Steve was allowed to get dressed again. Like so many times before, Steve couldn’t read Dr Jeong’s face as he returned to his desk where he waited for him to give his opinion. 

“It won’t surprise you when I say I don’t like what I’m hearing. This surgery is already overdue. If it were for me, we would’ve done this two, maybe three years ago. However, I understand your concerns when it comes to the medical bills.” Dr Jeong checked his watch. “Do you have a bit more time to spare? I’d like to go through some options I thought about to keep the financial stress as low as possible.”

Steve agreed and was surprised when Dr Jeong suggested for them to have breakfast. He knew him doing this much research for Steve wasn’t part of his obligations to him as a patient, so he deeply appreciated it. They found a café a couple of streets away; Dr Jeong telling Steve that between the convention and the food at the hospital he was craving meals that tasted like they should. And so, while Dr Jeong ordered, Steve texted Natasha real quick it would take a bit longer and added there was no need to worry. Which was a lie. They were talking about heart surgery and that was definitely worrisome. 

So for the next hour, Dr Jeong showed Steve what he found. Surgeons across New York who had plenty of experience with heart valve surgeries, but not with cases like Steve’s with the additional health issues. From what Steve gathered Dr Jeong had talked to each and every one of them and Steve had a hard time expressing his gratitude. In the end, though, neither of them were too surprised when Steve said, “If it’s okay with you, I’d like for you to do it. You weren't afraid to help me fifteen years ago and I trust you.”

When they parted they did so with a hug, Steve promising he would get in touch as soon as possible for them to schedule a date for the actual surgery. It shocked him how real it got so suddenly. Thinking about it, it was all because of Bucky. He nearly missed his stop on his way to the studio as he thought about how his little crush had such a massive impact on him and his decisions so far. Then again, was this even a crush anymore? 

Back when they met for the first time, Steve was taken by the confidence Bucky was radiating. Now he knew there was a lot hidden behind his exterior he wasn’t showing everyone. Just like Steve, he had his secrets and burdens to carry, yet he let his friends in. He didn’t have an issue with telling Steve about his phantom pains, the only worry he had was ruining their date. As far as Steve knew Bucky was still seeing Sam at the VA and then there was Dugan. A big doofus, but a heart of gold and willing to go the extra mile for his friends. 

When he compared himself to Bucky, the friendships around him and how he handled them, he realized he wanted to be better. He wanted to be open. He just didn’t know how. At least not yet.

As much as he dreaded Natasha’s return to the studio, he was relieved to find they could keep it civil. She quickly brushed through asking him about his appointment, not even turning to face Steve as if she knew the answer already, but she turned around abruptly when he said, “It was actually a lot to take in... And, uh, I’d like to tell you about it. Once you don’t want to rip my head off anymore.”

His phrasing was maybe a bit too ominous judging by the look of worry on Natasha’s face, one she hid real quick once she noticed Steve’s eyes on her. 

“If this is your way of telling me you only have a couple of days left, it’s a shitty way to go about it,” Natasha concluded as she crossed her arms and legs, leaning back in her chair as if she expected for Steve to tell her right then and there. 

“Not going to die. I promise. I--”

The bell at the front door interrupted him, or saved him, he wasn’t sure which but he knew now that he felt stronger in his decision to be more open about his life and everything included, there was no turning back now. And Natasha said that much when she looked around the corner. 

“I won’t let you off the hook now; I hope you know that.” 

At least it meant they were back on speaking terms and he considered it a step in the right direction. Come to think of it, he was actually excited to tell Bucky about it, maybe giving him the backstory about their little group of friends for him to understand where the elation was stemming from. 

So when Wednesday night rolled around and Steve headed to the little movie theater, he was a ball of buzzing energy. He could forget his aching back, reminding him he needed to see his physical therapist soon before he would end up in bed for a couple of days because the pain would be too much. He could forget his wheezing lungs, a small cold slowly creeping into his bones and promising nights of tossing and turning in hopes of getting some air. He could even forget about his upcoming surgery. The night prior he finally went through his apartment and gathered all the envelopes Abraham sent him or handed to him on different occasions. Steve was stumped when he counted the bills and came up with nearly ten thousand dollars. He was torn between guilt and gratefulness. So much so that he finally called Abraham, as he had promised he would do, and cried for a good minute on the phone before he could actually tell him how thankful he was for everything he had ever done for him. And once the doors were open and his feelings running wild, he even told him about Bucky and how Steve wanted to become a better version of himself for him. 

For this guy who stood in front of the movie theater with his hand in his military jacket, hair pulled up into a messy bun, three days worth of stubble on his cheeks, and a smile hidden somewhere in the corner of his lips. 

“Hey, I hope you didn’t have to wait for long?” Steve greeted him with a big smile. If he was honest, he had been thinking about their next meeting since they parted ways the Saturday before. He wondered how they would greet each other. Should he just kiss him, reach for his hand? Maybe a hug? Now he stood in front of Bucky and was just as clueless as the times before, hoping Bucky would help him out of his misery. 

Which he did, by turning to the entrance as he simply said, “No.”

If this would have been their first time out and about, Steve might have been worried. But after their conversation on Saturday, he assumed his rather gruff reply was more about himself than Steve. So he tagged along, insisting on buying the tickets while Bucky offered to buy the sweets. Not once did Bucky look at Steve, always avoiding Steve’s eyes when they did face each other. It was unnerving, but Steve knew how to be patient. After all they only made it this far because he never gave up. 

When they entered the theater, they found that except for one other couple they were alone and settled on sitting in the last row all the way in the back. The empty theater was maybe not too surprising seeing they decided on the original version of the movie Seven Samurai.

“People lack good taste these days,” Steve sighed as he sat down in his seat and took the popcorn from Bucky. He still didn’t get any reaction, even noticing how Bucky deliberately looked away from him. It baffled Steve what must have happened in the last couple of hours for Bucky’s change of heart. 

[](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312/been-doing-stucky-bangs-for-a-few-years-now-and)   


Steve wanted to ask him so badly, but he was afraid of the answer. He shoved some of the popcorn in his mouth, trying to distract himself from the thoughts running rampant in his mind. What if Bucky finally came to the conclusion he couldn’t add a basket case like Steve to his own issues he already had? What a pair they would make. The vet and the slutty wuss. Surely it was the last thing Bucky needed, what with his own problems, problems he told Steve about. Steve should have known better. Even Sam told him to stay away and maybe, just for once, he should have listened. 

The popcorn tasted stale and he barely focused on the movie, painfully aware of how silent Bucky was next to him. 

Steve sunk into his coat a bit deeper, trying his hardest to disappear when all of a sudden the screen went black and a moment later the lights were turned on. Another moment passed and nothing happened. Now it was Steve who didn’t dare look at Bucky, not even after one of the staff members announced that the movie got stuck in the projector, making it impossible to continue this night. While Steve didn’t believe in high powers or signs of fate, he wondered if this was an omen.

Torn between relief and uncertainty, Steve followed Bucky out of the theater. Both got a voucher for another visit before they stepped out on the sidewalk, the cold wind greeting them. Steve was still holding the bucket of popcorn as he kicked at the dirt with the tip of his boots. Despite his usual witty tongue, Steve didn’t know what to say. All he could do was stare at his own worn down shoes, the tinier equivalent of the boots Bucky liked to wear himself. He knew he had to say goodbye, putting them both out of their misery no matter the reason behind it. 

Yet, when he opened his mouth, he heard himself saying, “We can watch the movie at my place. Can’t let that popcorn go to waste.”

Steve had no idea why he suggested they spend even more time together when it was pretty clear how Bucky wanted to be anywhere but with him. So he was even more surprised when Bucky said, “Sure. Why not.”

If Bucky noticed Steve’s surprise he didn’t let it show, only following Steve when he led them to the subway station. His apartment was only three stops away, but with the silence it felt like a lifetime. Occasionally he would steal a short glance at Bucky, trying to read what was going on behind his eyes. Usually they were a sky blue, right now Steve felt as if he could be looking at a tumultuous sea and it pained him how he seemed to be the reason for this. He noticed the frown, brows drawn together, and Steve wished he could reach out and just brush his concerns away. 

When they arrived at his apartment, Steve let Bucky in first. His home only contained the usual chaos, haphazardly strewn clothes over the back of his couch and chair, some plates sitting in the sink waiting to be cleaned, an open sketchbook hiding some of his sketches on the table. Some were of his friends, some of his mom. He knew somewhere in this mess were a couple of Bucky as well. Bucky’s interest right now was focused on the wall next to the TV, however. Wood frames were scattered across the grey colored wall, holding memories of him with his mom and some with Abraham, even fewer with his friends. He wondered what Bucky saw when he looked at them. Steve had always been small, born prematurely, but it had never been an issue for him. 

No, it wasn’t his height that kept him left behind in his class. Or his bad eyesight; he actually liked his thick rimmed glasses. It wasn’t his bad back either; he knew by now what to do to avoid being in too much pain. Neither did his flat feet; another issue he had learned to deal with. Nothing on the outside made Steve self-conscious. What scared him for others to see was how fragile his insides were.

“Your mom?” Bucky asked as he shrugged out of his jacket. 

Steve nodded. 

“She was gorgeous.” 

“Yes, she was.” To have something to do, Steve took the jacket from Bucky and put it over the back of a kitchen chair with his own. 

“You want something to drink? Nat probably left one of her beers here. Or water. Coffee is another option,” Steve suggested as he walked over to the fridge, seeing Bucky still looking at the pictures. 

“If Nat can deal with me taking one of her beers, I’d like one.” The tension was still there, between each word Bucky spoke. Yet, Steve was glad for their exchange. Even when Bucky asked, “And who is this?”

Bucky didn’t have to go into detail who he was referring to. 

“That’s Abraham. Professor Doctor Abraham Erskine. He was our neighbor. My mom kinda took him in when she realized he was all by himself. He’s German, came to the States because of his work. Stem Cells.” Steve joined Bucky, looking at the picture as well. 

It was one of the three of them together. It was their last Christmas as a family. His mom had been already pretty sick, but no one could tell when they looked at her in this moment. She was glowing, radiating so much love as she hugged Steve to her chest, both of them staring into the camera and Abraham awkwardly leaning in, not sure how the whole timer thing on the camera worked. It wasn’t perfect, but it was one of the best memories Steve had. 

“My dad died in the Gulf War. Don’t remember much about him. It had always been my mom and me. Well, and Abraham. Mom tried to recreate all these German recipes for him. Sauerkraut and Stampfkartoffeln is his favorite. And when mom passed he took me in. He didn’t even hesitate.” Steve handed Bucky the beer, holding onto it even when he had his hand safely around the body, causing Bucky to look at him. 

“Why are you mad at me? And please don’t say you’re not. You haven’t looked at me the whole evening until now.” He hadn’t planned on asking, all the time waiting and hoping Bucky would come around, telling him on his own what was bothering him. What if Bucky would say the exact thing Steve was so scared of. He wanted to be strong, keep looking Bucky in his eyes. Fear got the best of him though and his gaze wandered down to Bucky’s hand tightening around the bottle. 

“Dugan saw you. Yesterday. He told me about you being out at a restaurant with some fancy guy in a suit.” As first the words didn’t register in Steve’s mind, he couldn’t connect the dots about what this had anything to do with them. Until Bucky continued. “I wanted to cancel, but I thought you had enough decency to do it yourself. I mean, if you want to see other guys, that’s fine. I had just hoped--” Bucky trailed off, arm falling to his side. Steve didn’t even realize he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn and Bucky continued, “I had just hoped I made it clear that this isn’t exactly how I roll and what I would want out of this. I hope, well, I hope you can respect that.” 

Steve felt rooted to the spot, staring at Bucky with wide eyes, still holding the beer out for him to take. His words stung, even more so when Steve noticed the aloof expression on Bucky’s face slowly crumbling and giving his pain away. What Dugan saw had hurt Bucky, but the problem was Dugan didn’t know the details. 

At first Steve needed a moment to think of the person he had spent the day with. Then he remembered sitting with Dr Jeong in the café, talking about his surgery. 

“Before I explain what Dugan saw, I want to say something else first,” Steve said, arm dropping to his side. He had expected for them to have an amazing night, a repetition from their time on the High Line which had been off to a rocky start, but then became one of Steve’s most precious moments with Bucky so far. Sam warned him that one day his lifestyle would come and bite him in the ass, but Steve didn’t want to listen. Yet, he never expected for Bucky to believe Steve would do this to him, not after the conversations they had. 

“I know what people say about me. I know I might come across as this big man-whore or like I’m extremely full of myself because of what I’m doing. I’m not perfect. But I’d never lead someone on. Hell, upon our meet cute at the farmer’s market I hadn’t been on a date in years.” Steve was angry. Not at Bucky for confronting him with what he got told. Not at Dugan for being a decent friend and telling Bucky about what he saw. Not at Sam or Nat for warning him over and over again how his behavior could harm any possible relationship. 

No. Steve was angry with himself. Knees shaky and heart in his throat, Steve walked the couple of steps over to his couch and flopped down, fiddling with the label on the beer bottle as he tried to organize his thoughts. 

“The guy Dugan saw me with?” It seemed impossible for him to look at Bucky in this moment, far too afraid to see his reaction. What if he didn’t believe him? He could already picture it, Bucky’s disbelieving face; how convenient for Steve’s doctor to be in town. “That was my doctor. The one I texted you about. He was in New York for a convention. Thought it would spare me the trouble of heading to Ohio for a check up. We sat together afterwards to talk about the options for future treatment.”

With a grunt, Steve leaned back and closed his eyes as he rested his head against the couch. If Bucky would believe him or not, either way he felt like a mess up. 

Bucky had been the first person Steve wanted to get to know better, the first person in years that caught his attention beyond his good looks. Bucky was gorgeous, but there was more to him. Steve wanted nothing more but peel all these layers away and explore what made him so unique. He admired Bucky’s ability to talk so freely about his past, what he had been through - although Steve was aware how much work it had cost him to get to this point. His ability to ooze this calming presence; Steve wanted to spend hours upon hours in silence with Bucky, sketching him, seeing him at his most comfortable state. And in return he wanted to show who he truly was, share his concerns and weaknesses. To Steve, Bucky was inspiring. 

When he told Abraham he wanted to become a better version of himself for Bucky, and Abraham telling him he was a good person, Steve finally opened up. About why he never had a boy- or girlfriend, how he continuously thought of himself as this huge burden people have to deal with because of all the problems he carried with himself. When Steve said he wanted to become a better version of himself, he wanted to become someone who could accept himself for what and who he was. Steve would never run a marathon or climb a mountain and he had to stop assuming this was what people expected him to do. 

With his eyes still closed, Steve listened to Bucky’s movement, expecting for him to leave and was surprised to find the couch dipping when he sat down next to him.

“I should have asked.”

Slowly, Steve opened his eyes as he shook his head, gaze locked at the ceiling. “No. This is on me. Sam warned me that one day this will happen.” Somehow Steve managed to roll his head over to look at Bucky, giving him a crooked smile as he held the beer out to him again. “But I appreciate you still being here. I guess that means something. Right?”

Getting his hopes up wouldn’t help Steve in the long run, not when he still had no idea what Bucky truly thought of him and his advances, if he thought him just a slut like all the others did. So far it was him saying very openly how much he liked Bucky, hinting over and over again at how much he would like to take this more serious. And yes they kissed, but Steve was still uncertain where they were heading.

For a moment he watched Bucky looking at the bottle of beer before he finally took it, mirroring the lopsided smile Steve was showing. Just on Bucky’s face it looked a lot softer, kinder, making Steve’s heart beat just this much faster upon seeing it. 

“I do like you, Steve. A lot.” 

The ‘but’ was lingering in the air, Steve could sense it. He was so used to these kinds of gentle let downs, the ones where people tried to find a nice way to say he was just too much to handle his volatility getting in the way of establishing something serious. Never willing to disclose anything about himself, just enough to seem like a human being. Only this time it wasn’t about his health, but the lifestyle Steve hid behind, constantly chasing for something he was too afraid of, leaving before he could be left behind. 

And then he met Bucky. The little encounters at the bar, the way Steve felt Bucky’s face lit up just this much more as soon as he saw Steve, the flirting, the teasing. Steve had seen Bucky interact with others in the past and never saw the same spark as they had. Maybe he was a hopeful, but it was a nice hope to cling to. 

Now he was sitting here and waited for Bucky to shred this bit of hope into pieces. 

“But?” Steve offered helpfully, somehow still managing to smile no matter how much it pained him. 

“But what?” Bucky seemed genuinely puzzled as he looked up from the bottle, his fingers still tugging on the piece of the label Steve had picked loose. “I like you, so yeah, you’re right when you say there’s a reason for me to still be here. I’m actually surprised you haven’t thrown me out just yet.”

Steve didn’t trust the elation spreading through his body, a breathy laugh rising in his throat. “Yeah, not gonna happen, pal. Plus we still have a movie to watch. Now lean back and relax.”

Steve was too relieved to push the matter any further. Tonight Steve decided to focus on the small victories. Like Bucky actually slipping out of his boots and leaning back while Steve got himself something to drink and turned the lights off before starting the movie. Being the little shit he was, he even immediately snuggled up to Bucky’s side once he returned to the couch, joining Bucky’s chuckle as he wrapped his right arm around Bucky’s midsection. 

Bucky was warm and solid against him, smelling like apple and geranium and something woody. He was glad he knew the movie by heart, giving him the chance to focus solely on the way Bucky breathed and his fingers traced the thick lines of the globe etched into Steve’s skin on the back of his hand. Bucky only stopped touching Steve when he took a sip of his beer, but even then he leaned just that much closer as if he didn’t want to lose the contact. 

He knew sooner or later they had to have another discussion, having a real talk, but tonight all Steve could think about was how much he appreciated for Bucky being here. And how much he wanted to kiss him.

They did, briefly during their second date, but ever since he wanted to do it again. And again. And again. The movie was slowly coming to an end and he knew if he wouldn’t do anything in this moment, who knew when they could see each other again next time with his surgery on the horizon. He shifted from his spot on Bucky’s shoulder, looking up at his face. From this angle Bucky’s eyes nearly looked light blue, a stark contrast to his tanned skin and the stubble along his jawline. He moved before he could think about it, fingers trailing along Bucky’s chin, eliciting a smile that stretched over Bucky’s face.

“What?” Bucky asked amused, eyes settling on Steve and making his heart stop in his chest, at the intensity and sole focus lying now on him.

Like a magnet, Steve got pulled closer, gravitating to Bucky’s mouth as he leaned up to press their lips together without much preamble. Steve could taste the beer on his tongue and inhaled Bucky’s scent, shifting to get even closer as he straddled his thighs. Bucky’s hand rested on his hip, just holding onto him as Steve licked into his mouth, feeling elated he was allowed to do this, allowed to hold Bucky’s face in his hands and kiss him silly. 

That was until Steve felt Bucky’s hand shifting, slowly but purposefully. Warmth spread from where he pressed his palm against Steve’s rib cage and Steve would have considered it a sweet gesture if Bucky hadn’t decided to put a stop to the kiss. 

Steve was ready to apologize, maybe he had been a bit too forceful, maybe he should have asked if the kiss, straddling his thighs was okay. He tried to scramble for anything to say as he looked into Bucky’s eyes, noticing his still slightly parted lips. This time his heart didn’t race out of excitement or thrill at kissing Bucky, not when Steve saw the way Bucky was trying to gather his thoughts. Fear gripped Steve’s heart. Things had been going well on his end after the conversation they had, and he knew they needed to talk more. So when Bucky spoke he wondered what had shifted.

“I think I need some time.”

Steve completely deflated, hands slowly letting go of Bucky’s face as he just looked at him, trying to find the reason behind his words. As if Bucky had read his mind, he added, “It’s not you. Seriously. You’re a very good kisser and I said I like you. Just--”

It’s not you. Steve had heard this part too many times in a long forgotten past that he had a hard time believing this was not about him this time. He slipped from Bucky’s lap, trying to gather his thoughts as Bucky seemingly tried to find the right words. And when he did they did nothing to calm Steve’s racing thoughts.

“Just, when I take Dugan’s words for gospel truth instead of reaching out and outright asking you about it, about who you hang out with, and jumping to conclusions what kind of person does this make me?” 

For a blissful split second Steve could actually believe this was indeed not about him, but it was totally about him. Bucky’s distrust, his doubts, were a result of Steve’s behavior. Nothing more and nothing less. Steve knew it and he was very sure Bucky knew it just as well. Hiding a truth behind nice words didn’t make the truth look any prettier.

Steve had made his bed and now he had to lie in it, if he liked it or not. People after people had warned him time and time again, but if Steve was honest he never expected to fall for anyone the way he did with Bucky. The L word is lurking around the corner, but Steve locked it away the second he noticed it, noticed the hurt he felt when Bucky spoke those words. 

The painful thing about this moment was, Steve got used to it over time. Before he decided to hide every tiny issue about him away into the dirtiest corner of himself, Steve tried to date. Well, he had tried getting closer with the people he slept with. But when they saw the amount of pills he had to take, saw the inhaler, saw the pain he was in when his body was giving out on him again, it was never him who made them stay away. But it was totally about him. So Steve knew how to handle this, how to put on his game face and go through this. 

The smile hurt on his face as he looked at Bucky, waving him off. “Yeah. I get you. I don’t want to sit here and talk you out of how you feel by saying it’s not that bad, but just know I understand. I do. And if it’s time you need, take all the time you want.” 

Deep down Steve knew this was it. He knew the whole ‘not about you, I need time’ spiel far too well to believe this time he would come across a different outcome, they would get their happily ever after. 

He felt Bucky’s eyes on him, but Steve averted his own on to his knees, noticing from the corner of his eyes their shoes standing side by side under the coffee table, and he knew as short the moment was this image would haunt him for a while. 

“Steve?” 

Steve knew that when he would look up at Bucky again, he wouldn’t be able to hide how painful this was. He wanted to be alone. 

“It’s fine. All good,” Steve kept repeating as he dragged his body off the couch and took the empty bottle from the table to take it to the trash. He still didn’t feel as if he could face Bucky by the time he heard the clink of the glass hitting something else in his bin, but he did, a wide, cheerful smile on his face. “We got this. Right?”

Make believe had been a game he loved to play when he was younger, when he occasionally pretended his mother would come back, she was just out of town. Or on vacation. Or visiting a friend. So now Steve could pretend Bucky would reach out to him again once he would leave, that they still had a chance to make this work. So he ignored the nearly pleading expression on Bucky’s face, the pity in his eyes. 

He could hear his neighbors laughing, hear the cars outside honking, doors opened and closed. The world outside his apartment still went on, but for Steve time stood still as they kept looking at each other; the one close to crumbling down, the other uncertain how to proceed. 

It was Bucky who looked away first as he turned to put his shoes on and then got to his feet. Steve wanted to believe he saw him hesitating, but even if it wouldn’t change the way Bucky felt about the whole situation. When he stepped closer, coming straight towards Steve, an even smaller part felt hopeful for a possible change in heart, for Bucky to scoop him up in his arm and tell him it would be indeed fine. Instead he grabbed his jacket. 

“I’ll call you,” he promised Steve, but Steve had a guess it wouldn’t happen. 

“Sure. And now you even know where I live. In case, you know, the phone doesn’t work.” 

Steve followed Bucky to the door. Just thirty minutes ago everything was fine and then he had to ruin it by kissing Bucky, by moving too quickly too soon. 

“I promise, I’ll call you,” Bucky said when Steve opened the door.

The smile was already hurting his cheeks. “Oh, you already said that,” Steve tried to joke, but he felt his facade slowly crumbling as he felt Bucky’s eyes looking right through him, through his facade. 

“Sleep well, Steve.” 

“You too.”

Steve thought the moment he closed the door would feel like a relief, but it didn’t. It just stung even more. He knew if he sat down now, allowed the evening roll over him, the realization hitting him fully, it’d destroy him completely. 

Despite the time of day, he called Abraham. He knew his schedule, knew he liked to work late, so he knew he wouldn’t wake him. And as expected Abraham was still up and working on a new thesis, but - as he repeated multiple times - a short break would do him good. As Christmas was coming closer, they briefly discussed the options, as well as Steve’s conversation with Dr Joeng, but once he noticed how the focus was more and more shifting to Steve and his friends, he decided to end the call. 

It was weird how Steve couldn’t even open up to Abraham anymore, afraid of the judgement he would be facing from him. Sure he could have told Abraham an attenuated version of what had happened, but Steve already had an idea how Abraham’s reaction would be, how he would try to tell him he could do better than this. Steve was already disappointed in himself enough as it was, he didn’t want to disappoint the one piece of family he had left. 

Instead Steve turned to cleaning. He wasn’t a very dirty person, tried to take care of his apartment at least once a week if his health allowed it. Tonight, though, he went deep, going from the deepest corner of his living room to the highest shelves of his kitchen. He knew he would regret it come morning and rely on a lot of painkillers, but he needed to keep busy, needed to keep the thoughts at bay. 

That was until he cleaned the coffee table and one of his sketchbooks dropped to the floor, opening at the page he had started Bucky’s portrait back when they were walking the High Line. Immediately everything came to a stand still and Steve stared down at the page, at the face he had captured in that moment. The soft smile on his face as his eyes were on Steve, easing up the more they talked. 

And then the kiss. 

Steve dropped everything he held in his hands to the ground, turned around and disappeared into his bedroom where he crawled under the sheets. It was his fault and his alone, but for tonight he allowed himself to feel bad for himself. Tonight he would mourn what he thought would be the turning point for him and how he tackled his life.


	6. Chapter 6

“You look like shit.”

Steve made a face at Natasha’s greeting and slipped past her into the apartment. After he went to bed the night prior, he sent a quick text to Natasha, asking if she would be fine for an early breakfast so they could talk. Properly. If things were going up in flames, he could do it thoroughly. He didn’t expect for Natasha to agree, but before he could put his phone down he saw the three dots appearing underneath his message and a moment later just the word ‘sure’.

When he got up, he found more messages from Natasha. Not that he could sleep, he had heard his phone buzzing for the next twenty minutes. Knowing his friend, though, he already knew she was sending him what to buy and to pick up from the grocery store. No one would assume this about looking at Natasha, but she was notorious for getting her food delivered or getting take away so her fridge was always empty. 

And as Steve was heading to the kitchen, opening the aforementioned fridge, he wasn’t surprised to find only butter and something he was sure had been a carrot in another life. 

“I mean it. You look like you haven’t slept.” Natasha had followed him and Steve could feel her eyes on him as he stocked her fridge, buying more than what she asked for. 

“That’s probably because I haven’t.”

Pause. 

“Oh.”

Once everything was stored, all that was left were the items they needed for their breakfast. Not that Steve was particularly hungry, but he had to eat if only for some of the pills he needed to take. Usually he avoided doing that in front of others, but today he didn’t even care. Plus he wanted to be honest to Natasha, so why not show instead of tell. 

They set the table silently, occasionally Steve would notice the glances Natasha snuck at him as if she wanted to speak up, prompting him to say something, but she waited until they sat opposite each other in her tiny kitchen. It had enough room for a tiny table and two stools barely big enough to even fit Steve’s skinny frame. From where Steve was sitting he had no issue reaching over to the counter and grab something if needed, but it was cozily decorated with flowers growing along the walls and cabinet doors. Some of her art was framed in between all this greenery. 

“Thanks for getting me--” Natasha pointed to the fridge and table, but Steve just waved her off. 

“Always a pleasure.”

As if it was the signal, Natasha reached for the toast and the container with the scrambled eggs he got from the café down the street and Steve just sat back and watched her for a good moment. Natasha looked good and he was glad about it. 

“Clint on the road again?” Steve had noticed some suspiciously empty spots around the hallway and the living room he had snuck a glance in. Seeing as Clint worked as a road manager for bands, he was gone a lot of times, but this seemed different. 

“Said I can have the apartment. And with the shop I sat up, I can even make the rent for this shoebox on my own,” Natasha mumbled with her mouth full. 

“Shop?

Natasha nodded briefly while she swallowed the bite. “Some designs I made to get printed on shirts and stuff.”

Steve shouldn’t feel hurt. He had no right to be hurt, but he was. This was a part they had talked about in the past, how a lot of shops had their own merch, selling their clothes to people who weren’t even interested in tattoos but enjoyed the style. Hearing Natasha made that step without him, Steve even wondered why Natasha entertained him at this very moment. 

“Don’t look like I just broke up with you.” 

Steve could hear the eyeroll in Natasha’s words, but he didn’t feel to hide it. Or argue. “Kinda feels like it.” When Steve looked from where his eyes had dropped on the table to Natasha’s face again, straight into her green eyes, he found her looking right back. 

“I was pissed, Steve. Okay? I think I had a right to be pissed and do something selfish when you couldn’t tell me what this money--”

“It’s for my open heart surgery I will get scheduled today,” Steve interrupted, voice a pitch higher than usual. He hadn’t been here for more than ten minutes and he had expected for this conversation to go differently, but maybe it was good to just go with what was necessary. Seeing the reaction his words elicited, the way Natasha just stared at him with big eyes, he decided it was now or never. 

And so Steve started talking. About his father dying during the Gulf War, his mother taking care of him while working full time, her death, Abraham taking him in, his strep-infection, and when he got there, he even pulled his sweater and shirt up, revealing his beautiful mother’s face tattooed on his chest, covering the scar which was still visible despite the colorful distraction. 

He went through every tiny bit, even the parts that made him nearly choke up himself, the parts where he spoke about how much he missed his mother, how much he wanted her back, how it affected him. Steve just talked and talked and talked. About abandonment issues, listing in detail what his health was doing to his body, showing Nat the tiny bag within his bag holding all of his medicine he needed to keep going. Not once through all of it did he look at Natasha, not wanting to see the pity. Only when he showed her the tattoo did he look up and saw Natasha crying. 

Steve had never seen Natasha cry. Not when she broke up with Clint, not when she broke up with Sam, not when she told Steve about her ballet career coming to a full stop when she broke her foot so badly, she would never fully recover from it. But now she sat opposite of him and her tears were falling onto the table while she pressed her hands against her mouth, muffling the tiny sobs she tried to stifle. 

He had no idea what to make of it, if he should apologize for not giving her a warning or telling her to stop looking like he was on his deathbed. In the end it was Natasha speaking first. 

“You asshole.”

Steve blinked. Once. Twice. And then he just started laughing.

“Why didn’t you say a word? God, I’m so mad right now. These are angry tears, just so you know. I’m a ball filled with anger,” Natasha sobbed through her words as he searched the table for something to clean up, but had to get up in the end, giving Steve a good view of a part of the half-finished project on her back. The silhouette of a ballet dancer hanging on puppet strings, all of them close to snapping. A display of how fragile her career was, as Natasha had put it herself. 

When she turned back around, the tears had stopped but she looked miserable. It felt weird getting up and pulling Natasha into a hug, but by the way she clung to Steve, he decided it was a good decision; something they both needed.

[ ](https://koreanrage.tumblr.com/post/636912434272141312/been-doing-stucky-bangs-for-a-few-years-now-and)

“Sorry, Nat. I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m mad. I’m mad as motherfucking hell,” Natasha mumbled against his shoulder, feeling her hot breath through the pieces of fabric he wore. 

“Oh?” Steve was genuinely curious why she was mad and as it seemed Natasha was ready to tell him exactly what was going through her head. 

“What if something had happened and we didn’t know shit about anything? Ever thought about that?”

“Well, I usually try to avoid thinking about my untimely death. So--”

Natasha slapped his shoulder as she pulled back, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “I’m serious, Steve. Every time you called in sick, I thought you were probably just hung over after too much fucking. But you were actually sick. What’s the deal in letting me, us, know?”

It was one of the points Abraham liked to mention about his friends, about how his secrecy could cause all kinds of misunderstandings. 

“I don’t want your pity.”

The way Natasha rolled her eyes made Steve flinch. 

“Pity? That’s the big issue? The big reveal on why you kept all of that to yourself? After all these years, that’s it?”

Steve shrugged sheepishly. “When you put it that way--”

“Lemme tell you something here. I can feel sorry for you but still let you be your own person. I won’t come fussing around you all of the time, but what’s so wrong about asking how you’re feeling when I see you flinch in pain? And yes, Steven, you’re far less unsuspicious as you’d like to be. All of us have eyes.”

The longer Natasha talked, the more stupid Steve felt. Was he so obvious? For the past years he had thought he was hiding his troubles well enough, always coming up with the one or other explanation why he was limping, why he was fidgeting around in his seat when his back gave him trouble. So far he had been sure his friends believed him, but now he looked at Natasha and he knew his cover had been blown. A long, long time ago. 

“No one knew exactly what was going on, but we always assumed something might be off. About you not drinking, never joining us on our hiking trips--”

“Hey, you only asked once and I actually had that booth booked for that tattoo convention,” Steve protested, but Natasha just shook her head. 

“It was about how you said no. You said something about how you might never be able to join. Sam and I, we talked about that. And with what else we saw, how you behaved, we guessed it might be your health. So we never asked again. It seemed cruel.”

“And like this I feel left out.”

Finally, Natasha blew her nose as she slipped back in her seat, the sound she created caused Steve to make a face. 

“We don’t want you to feel left out. But we couldn’t say ‘hey, we assume you might have one or ten different health issues, so we looked at some hiking trails you might be able to tackle, care to join?’ either. You weren’t honest with us, so what were we supposed to do?”

Steve nodded remorsefully, knowing Natasha was right, describing his stubborn streak far too well. “Didn’t make it easy for you guys, huh?”

Reaching for the small bottle of water, Natasha shrugged. “You didn’t make it easy for yourself. We love you, Steve. We seriously love you. We’re such a tight knit group of friends, and I don’t want it any other way. Did it feel good to be pushed away? No, of course not. Can I relate? In a way. When I broke my foot it was the main focus about me. People wouldn’t associate me anymore with my performances, but only talk about that ‘poor ballerina who broke her foot’.” 

Steve knew where she was going, but he waited for her to take a sip of the water to let her continue. “I can’t speak for others, only for myself, but you’ll never be your bad health to me. Will I be worried? Sure I will, but now I can be worried openly and not send Sam texts in the middle of night, telling him I’ll come and look after you if you call in sick just to smile into your face when you look like death incarnate when you do show up.” 

He should have known better, he should have known he could count on his friends, Natasha in particular. She was more like a sister than a friend and it had hurt seeing her leave that one night, believing it would be the last time they would ever speak. Steve was so overwhelmed, he had no words to say. Instead he got to his feet and walked around the small table to pull her into a tight hug. 

“Thank you, Nat.”

She pressed her cheek against his chest and he knew she was listening for his heartbeat. 

“It doesn’t even sound like something is wrong.” 

Steve huffed. “Weird how that works, right.”

“And that tattoo, is that your mom?” 

Steve still held Natasha, rubbing her back as she mumbled her words into his sweater. 

“Yes. She worked as a nurse. We always thought it was a cruel joke for her to work in a hospital, but be too busy to see a doctor.” 

When Natasha shifted in his embrace to look up, Steve met her gaze, seeing his sorrow reflected on her face. “I’m sorry, Steve. I only hope you know now you don’t have to go through this alone. Any of it.”

Steve nodded, the lump in his throat too thick to really say anything in response. It only grew bigger when Natasha added. “But why now? I don’t mean the surgery. You explained that. Why do you tell me now? And please no morbid shit like ‘in case I won’t come back’. It’s something else, am I right?”

Immediately his thoughts returned to the night prior, to Bucky on his couch, them kissing, and then Bucky leaving. All because Steve is too socially awkward to act like a normal human being. But could he say this to Natasha? Did he need the ‘told you so’ reply in this moment?

Giving Natasha a final squeeze, Steve pulled back and slipped into his seat, fiddling with the toast on his plate - by now cold - unsure where to start. And then he just blurted out, “I fucked it up with Bucky, I don’t want to make the same mistake with you. Or Sam. Or Clint for that matter.”

“Bucky?” 

“We went on some meet-cutes, pretending we just accidentally ran into each other. Just trying to get a feel if, well, if this is something that could happen. Being honest with him, it felt different. I can’t describe it.”

Steve watched Natasha getting up and making another coffee for herself, her eyes always looking at him over her shoulder to keep him talking. 

“It was good. It was really good.” Just thinking about Bucky made the bubble in his chest fill with all of the emotions he had accumulated, even more so when he told Natasha about the kiss and them holding hands. “I--”

The words were there, right at the tip of his tongue. Steve wasn’t sure what Natasha might think about him, but he pushed his doubts aside and then said, “I think I love him. I really have it bad for him.”

“What happened?” Natasha’s words were spoken so softly, Steve nearly missed them.

“Dugan saw me with my doctor and told Bucky. Bucky thought, well, I think you’ve an idea what he thought this was. We met last night. He said it wasn’t about me, but him jumping to conclusions. Well, guess what pal, if I hadn’t acted the way I did all those years, you wouldn’t have these thoughts in the first place.”

Steve heard Natasha stirring her coffee, watching her sitting back down with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Give it time.”

Steve didn’t want to make a face, but a face he made. 

“No, seriously, Steve. Bucky is such a sweet guy. I believe him when he says, it’s not you but him.”

But Steve just waved her off. “It doesn’t matter, now, does it? Whatever happens, it gave me enough of a push to turn to you and tell you everything. So even if he decides not to reach out anymore, something good came out of it.”

There was this little twitch in the corner of Natasha’s lips, telling Steve she wanted to argue with him about his take on the situation but she remained quiet. 

“Do you want to talk to Sam and Clint as well? We want to head to the Raunchy Leprechaun at the end of the week, come with us.”

Natasha probably thought she was less suspicious than she appeared to be, but Steve knew right away the reason for the question. She surely wanted Steve to talk to the rest of their little group, but this was not about them. This was about Steve seeing Bucky, giving them a chance to straighten things up.

“Maybe.” As it seemed the answer was enough to satisfy Natasha for the moment as she reached for her tablet and showed him the shop and the items she had prepared for Steve to release along her own designs. 

When he looked at her, question lingering in the air why she put this much work into it after their fight, she simply said, “I knew we would make up. You’re my best friend.”

These words were enough for Steve to agree, silently, to accompany them to the Leprechaun. Clint had canceled last minute, saying he wasn’t feeling so hot, so it was just Sam, Nat, and Steve. As it was the middle of the week, the bar wasn’t too packed and comfortable to move around. 

Yet, Steve stayed put in his place in their favorite booth. The others took care of his drinking orders, giving him the chance to avoid Bucky for the time being. Natasha because she knew what had happened, Sam - probably - because he didn’t want them to interact in the first place. 

Eventually, though, Sam turned to Steve, eyeing him carefully. “What’s all this hiding here? Haven’t seen you talking up your favorite barkeeper yet.”

“At least you didn’t ask what I did,” Steve returned nervously, not sure how to go about it. As much as he loved the bar, it seemed like the wrong place for him to delve into the last days and weeks, years, of his life, but he knew he acted weird. Well, weirder than usual. Not that Sam acted differently. It surprised Steve for him to ask why he didn’t talk to Bucky, but he had a feeling as if Sam already knew more than he led on.

Leaning closer, so close Steve could feel Sam’s breath on his cheek, Sam said, “Should I?”

For unbeknown reasons Sam’s approach felt different. Less menacing and more jovial, but Steve still felt like a penitent, as if he had to apologize for a deed he didn’t do. Heat was creeping up his neck and into his face and he imagined this was the same feeling anyone felt during an interrogation. 

“I need to get open heart surgery.” The words felt far too loud and he knew this was not the question Sam asked, but it was the first thing coming to his head. Maybe distraction would be the key to go through the uncomfortable truth with Sam.

“Yeah, yeah. Nat told me. And she also told me not to tell you, but here we are.”

Natasha tried to hide her face behind her hands, peeking through the gap between her fingers, but Steve just laughed and shook his head at how ridiculous this moment was. Even Sam looked a tiny bit bad for letting the secret slip so easily. 

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Natasha mumbled, looking as guilty as Steve felt when Sam asked about him and Bucky

“It’s fine. Spares me from going through it all again.” And Steve meant every word he just said. He would have talked to Sam sooner or later, but his conversation with Natasha, the sort of break up with Bucky, had left Steve drained. Exhausted. Spread too thin. How tired he was he only noticed once he stepped into the bar and saw Bucky behind the counter, laughing and joking, eyes sparkling. He seemed fine. Hell, Bucky seemed more than fine. Of course he didn’t need Steve in his life, someone he couldn’t trust. Yet seeing the easy smile on his face hit Steve like a ton of bricks the moment he stepped into the bar. It was stupid to think he would walk around looking like he was mourning a relationship that clearly only had a chance in Steve’s head. 

So having Natasha telling Sam about his past, why he stayed so silent about his life, felt like a huge relief. Yet it didn’t let him off the hook when it came to Bucky and why he avoided speaking to him. 

A tiny part of Steve had hoped Natasha told Sam this part as well, but apparently she decided this was a too sore spot of a subject. With a sigh and a shrug, Steve simple said, “Dugan saw me with my doc and he told Bucky and--”

“He thought you were on a date.” Sam nodded, looking more sad than Steve had anticipated. He had already braced himself for another lecture and how he had brought it on himself, but there was none of it. It seemed absurd, but Steve wasn’t sure if he liked this reaction more or even wanted for Sam to get upset with him. 

“Look,” Sam started after a long moment in which they all stared on their glasses, “I’m going to tell you just a tiny little bit about Bucky here. He likes you. He does. But what he went through? Anyone would have trust issues after that. You talked?”

Steve nodded. “He told me about his family and a bit about, well, what happened with his arm. Still happens with his arm.”

There was something like surprise on Sam’s face, close to relief, but Steve couldn’t say for sure why or if he was reading his friend right. By now he had figured out the connection between Bucky and Sam, how Sam was Bucky’s counselor at the VA. Sam knew every tiny detail about Bucky, or at least Steve assumed he did. When the pieces clicked, when Steve realized how deep the bond between the two was, a tiny bit of jealousy kicked in. He wanted to be the one Bucky could rely on, but he also knew a friend - a boyfriend - could never be a therapist. Not with what Bucky went through. So after the unnecessary flash of envy dying down, all Steve wanted was to become someone Bucky could lean on in times when he needed it. He wanted to be there for him when things got too tough. He wanted to love and cherish him. 

His eyes flicked from Sam to Bucky, who just laughed at something Dugan said to him in passing and Steve felt his own lips pull into a smile as well. 

“I see,” Steve heard Sam’s voice, but he kept his eyes for a moment longer at Bucky before turning his attention back. “But there is more, Steve. More shit that went down. Both of you have issues, and don’t look at me, Steve. You and I know that’s the honest truth. Of course it might be difficult, but maybe - and I can’t believe I’m actually saying this - you’re also good for each other.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighed, but then shook his head. “I’d hoped the same, but he said he needs time and we all know what that means.”

“That he needs time. Sometimes people actually mean what they say. As hard as it is for us to swallow, as we’re so used to hearing one thing and believing another, although it is not what you wish to hear. Give it time. If you’re really as hung up on Bucky as you say you’re,” Sam went on, even going so far as to wrap an arm around Steve’s shoulders, giving him a half armed hug, “you’ll wait. You’ve waited this long, you certainly have a bit more time. And there’ll be setbacks in the future as well. Don’t get discouraged. Relationships? That shit is hard.”

To Steve the whole moment seemed surreal, for Sam to be this supportive and even giving him a pep talk when only weeks ago he had told him to stay away from Bucky. Something had shifted, changed, and while Steve was curious what it was, he was smart enough to take a treat when it was offered without questioning why. Instead he leaned against Sam’s solid body and took a deep breath, feeling the tension in his whole body slowly easing. 

“Thank you, Sam. And Nat. Gosh, I dunno what I’d do without you.”

“Sit in your apartment, wallow in self-pity, maybe watch some Drag Race,” Natasha mused, chin propped up in her hand as her eyes wandered over the guests, but then her eyes narrowed and Steve followed her look. 

At the bar, two guys were arguing with Bucky. It wasn’t exactly possible to hear what was going on, but by the way one of them was clinging to the counter, Steve assumed Bucky decided this guy had enough for the night. Dugan was lingering in the background, keeping an eye on the situation, which only emphasized the tone they were apparently talking by now. 

“I hate it when people don’t get it when they've had enough,” Sam mumbled, his arm slowly slipping down Steve’s shoulder but stayed draped over the backrest as he, too, watched the scene unfold. 

While the voices got louder on the patreons’ parts, Bucky stayed calm, still wearing a smile as he spoke to the customers. Eventually Dugan took a step closer, but the more sober one of the group seemed to realize this was a lost battle, pulling his friend away from the counter. 

At first Steve thought they were about to leave, but then the voices grew louder as they came to a stop right behind their booth. Right where they could hear every tiny word.

“That asshole,” the one guy slurred. 

Steve didn’t even turn around, didn’t want to see the guy, but he could tell Natasha and Sam were just as tense as he was, both of them listening. 

“Let it go, Adam.”

“No. Thinks he’s something better. Thinks I've had enough. Pff.”

Silence. Steve hoped these guys were about to go, but apparently Adam wasn’t finished. 

“I could beat him, show him who has the upper hand.” There was a snort and some ugly laughing before the guy went on. “Got it? Upper hand?”

Apparently his companion didn’t think it worthy of a reply, just letting this Adam guy ramble. 

“You know what? You know what? I’ll get my beer. I’ll let that stupid, ugly, cripple know what I think of him.”

The hair on Steve’s neck rose and he clung to his glass a tiny bit tighter as the word sunk in. 

“How about you let it go--”

“Shit I’ll. I want my beer. Hey. Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucking one-armed bandit.”

The voice got louder but was moving away and when Steve moved in his seat he saw this Adam guy walking up to the counter again. His voice was so loud, it got everyone’s attention as he was gesturing towards Bucky who turned to him with a patient expression on his face. As it seemed this time Adam’s friend had enough and instead of getting involved, Steve watched him leave the pub.

“Yeah, gimp, I’m talking to you. I want my beer. Now.”

Steve moved before he really thought about it, barely registering Sam’s warning words of staying out of it. 

“Yo, asshole. How about you drag your drunken ass out of here.” When Steve stepped in front of the guy, he noticed the height difference, how he was twice as big as he was, but he didn’t care. He knew Bucky and Dugan could easily take care of the situation themself, but Steve hated bullies. Hated how he talked to Bucky, about Bucky. 

When the guy looked down at Steve, sneering as he realized who was talking to him, he placed his hand on Steve’s head and shoved him away. 

“You need your little cocksucker here to stand up for you?”

Steve didn’t hear what Bucky said, but he registered more words were spoken, someone - probably Dugan - mentioned calling the cops. Then, from behind, Sam called for Steve, but Steve didn’t listen to any of it. Instead he took a swing at the guy and maybe it was luck, maybe his anger guided him, but he hit him square in the jaw, making him stumble. For a second Steve was actually sure this would be it, but then he felt a fist connecting with his own cheek, sending his glasses flying. He was sure there was also a cracking sound, hoping it was just the frame of said glasses, but then all hell broke loose as he watched Bucky slipping over the counter. Without the glasses it was hard to see anything clearly, but apparently it didn’t take Bucky long to contain the guy after some shuffling. 

There were sirens a moment later, Natasha checking in on Steve, but Steve was only focused on Bucky after Natasha handed him his glasses back. One side was completely shattered, but the other good enough to see Bucky kneeling next to the guy who was passed out. 

When the police came, Dugan was the one telling them what happened, how this guy started insulting the staff, how Steve got involved after the friend of the troublemaker left him to himself. Steve didn’t pay much attention to it, his whole focus on Bucky who was looking at him in return. Bucky looked stunned, brows slightly raised, as his eyes swept over Steve’s face. 

“You’re bleeding.”

It was the first thing Bucky actually said and Steve held his breath when he stepped closer, gently tilting Steve’s face up at his chin to have a look at it. 

“Probably a cut from your glasses,” Bucky assessed softly. “Let me take care of it. I’ll just check with Dugan.” 

Natasha and Sam were sitting on either side of Steve, the one grinning like crazy the other grumbling under his breath. “I can’t believe you got into a fight with this guy,” Sam finally said and Steve could feel his eyes on him and hear the judgement in his words.

“Steve has been in plenty of fights since I met him,” Natasha said with far too much glee in her voice. “Which makes me wonder how someone with such bad health as you could even think about having a chance in all of that.”

Steve shrugged. “It’s not about having a chance. It’s about stepping in when you see injustice. If I see a bully, I’ll call that person a bully. No matter where they come from or how big they are. By doing nothing, I’m not better than that person.”

It wasn’t his intention to sound preachy, but by the way Natasha and Sam hung their heads, he assumed his words hit differently than intended. “Sure, they had it under control, but I can’t sit by when people I like are being treated badly. I know you were just as concerned, but you believed in them handling it by themself and--”

“Dugan said I can have the night off. Come on. I’ll patch you up.” Bucky had his jacket thrown over his shoulder, watching Steve expectantly. But Steve was rooted to the spot, not sure what to make of it. He had thought maybe Bucky would get him a bandaid and give him a pat on the shoulder while telling him how stupid he had been. Not for him to take the night off and wanting to take care of Steve.Natasha kept dabbing at the cut on his cheek, making sure it wouldn’t cause a too big of a mess, while Sam sat with his arms crossed, looking far too smug for Steve’s liking. 

“Where are we going?” Steve finally asked as he slipped from the bar stool he sat on while the guy got arrested and things were calming down again. His body hurt and he knew he would pay for this come morning. 

“My apartment. It’s right above the pub.” 

“Oh.”

Steve had no idea Bucky actually lived right above the Leprechaun, but it kind of explained why he ran into him occasionally when passing the bar even when it was closed. 

His initial reaction was to tell Bucky he was fine. Natasha took care of him and he was sure it wasn’t so bad. Somehow the idea of being scolded in front of others seemed less daunting than having this conversation in private. However, Steve found himself following Bucky behind the counter and through the door that led to the back where they turned right and headed up some stairs. 

“It’s not much,” Bucky said quietly as he stopped to open the door, “But it’s home.” 

Steve assumed it might have been a part of the storage rooms for the pub so he didn’t have any kind of expectation. Not when he was so focused on Bucky, on them spending time alone with each other. Their movie night had been a couple of days ago, probably not enough time for Bucky to make a final decision on what was supposed to happen next. That was if he took Sam’s words as the truth and Bucky really needed a moment to reflect on their situation. 

When he followed Bucky into his apartment, he found it was a sparsely decorated loft, roughly the size of the pub. The old wood flooring creaked under their footsteps as they walked over to the big couch which faced a TV. Steve noticed the industrial kitchenette on the far end of the open space, a pot still on the oven and some dishes in the sink. There were plant pots on the countertop with fresh herbs, the kitchenware looked well used and the idea of Bucky liking to cook was a pleasant idea. Unfortunately his mind immediately created pictures of him sitting on the couch sketching Bucky while he made dinner. 

“Let me get something to clean this up.” 

Steve had been so busy looking around - the raw wood table with four chairs, a comfortable looking bed with beige sheets halfway hiding behind a wooden room divider - it took him a moment to notice the door Bucky disappeared behind, assuming it was the bathroom. When he returned Steve still stood in the middle of the apartment, looking at the small box in Bucky’s hand. 

“Sit. It might take a bit.” 

Looking around, Steve settled for the couch. While Bucky’s apartment wasn’t crammed with furniture or knick knacks, Steve still thought it seemed a lot like him. Hard to read but still warm and welcoming and so he eased against the fabric and let Bucky assess the situation once again. 

“Hope that guy is insured,” Bucky mumbled as he looked through the box, but Steve paid more attention to his face, the deep frown as he looked for the right tools. Steve smelled the alcohol and he knew it would sting; he hadn’t checked how bad it was, already aware he would probably sport a black eye come morning. At least it would match the one Steve got this guy. 

Although he was prepared for the sting, Steve still made a face as Bucky dabbed at the wound, frown not once leaving his face. It was in the way he pressed his lips together Steve was sure something was brewing, some words about how stupid Steve was and how it was none of his business. Of course Steve could have told him then how important Bucky was to him, how no one deserved to be talked to the way this guy talked to him. 

When Bucky dropped his hand and finally looked Steve in the eyes, what he said was, “You could have been hurt. Worse than this cut. Do you have any idea--” Bucky stopped himself and when he looked away, Steve wanted to beg him not to, to keep his eyes on him. But his wish was granted and once their eyes found each other again, Bucky continued, “Do you have any idea how worried I was for you?”

Words of concern were the last thing Steve expected and it left him momentarily stunned, looking at Bucky with big eyes.

“I didn’t think--”

“You don’t say!” Bucky interrupted as he returned to tending to Steve’s wound, a stubborn frown returning to his face. 

“I didn’t think at this moment. I just heard what this guy said and to be honest I didn’t even think you would care.”

It was hard to say if Bucky dabbed the cloth a bit harder against the cut because it was necessary or because of what Steve said, but it hurt nonetheless. 

“Why do I even bother with you?” The words weren’t spoken with any malice, but to Steve they still weighed heavily. Hearing a question he asked himself for the past weeks from Bucky himself seemed to confirm his suspicion and he felt his body defleating. 

“Don’t do this again, Steve. Don’t shut me out like you did the other night.” 

At first Bucky’s words didn’t make any sense to Steve. Why did he say Steve was shutting him out? Wasn’t Bucky the one saying he didn’t want this, didn’t want Steve. Yet he just waved him off. Just like he did before, plastering another of his trademark smiles to his face. 

“Hey, it’s fine. No need to let me down easy. Kay?”

Steve wasn’t quick enough to duck so the piece of cloth Bucky used to clean him up landed right in his face. 

“Hey!”

“I’ll tie you up and gag you if you refuse to listen to me now, Steve, and I want you to listen carefully.” Bucky, while charming and sweet when talking to customers, was still the polar opposite of Steve. More brooding, more thoughtful. So when Steve looked at him, looked him in the eyes, he saw how serious he was and Steve just nodded as he grabbed the cloth and clung to it. 

Their knees were touching as Bucky slipped into the chair next to Steve. Whatever he had to say apparently he needed a moment to gather his thoughts, his words and while Steve was ready to assure him not saying anything at all was fine, he stayed quiet. Just waiting for Bucky to be ready. 

“Trust is a fickle thing,” he finally started. Some strands of his hair had come loose from his bun which he brushed away carelessly. “Sometimes you want to trust so badly, but in the end you make all the wrong decisions. You trust the wrong people.”  
Steve held his breath. The way Bucky spoke, the slightest hint of fear in his voice, made Steve worry. More so than before. 

“It was scary when I noticed your interest. The last time a guy wanted to date me - I was with - he made me feel as if he would be the only one who could ever love me again. Words were said, hands were raised. And I believed him. How could I not. I’ve two eyes to see.” 

It was a confession Steve wasn’t prepared for. Not even when he thought back to Sam hinting at Bucky’s backstory, how there was more to it than the obvious. Even now with how little he was willing to share, it completed the picture although it made Steve wonder how he fit into it. 

Getting annoyed with his hair, Bucky reached behind his head and pulled the tie out, making the strands cascade down to his shoulders and frame his face. “I promise I’ll tell you everything if you want to know, but it’s important for me to say this is about my issues as well as yours. Taking time away, I wanted to figure out if I can trust you because of what I’ve been through. I only realize now how I should have told you at least this bit to make you understand and not jump to conclusions.”

Steve nodded. He understood. It made sense. Yet, he still stayed quiet, sensing there was more Bucky might want to say. 

“Knowing you never dated, the way you lived your life before this, it might have played a little part in it. And I think it is only honest of me to say this much. Just, and I beg you to believe me, I really want this. You.” Steve watched as Bucky reached for one of his hands, gladly accepting the touch. “I want us. But it might take work on both of our parts. Giving up because one might need time will get us nowhere. Maybe it’s time to stop running away from happiness and start creating it.”

The words sparked a whirlwind of emotions inside of Steve. Happiness, longing, sadness for he realized it was the first time someone actually told him he was wanted. He was truly wanted. With each word Bucky spoke he slowly let his guard down and he showed Steve he meant everything exactly the way he said. 

No word came to Steve’s mind to express what he was feeling. He wanted to show it. There was a good chance Bucky would say no, would draw a line somewhere, but Steve knew it was a possibility as he reached out and cupped Bucky’s face in his hands. The feeling of stubble against his skin sent sparks from his palms to his inner core, even more so when he felt them against his lips. They had kissed before, a little spark between them which was now finally igniting. 

Steve expected hesitation on Bucky’s part, but there was none. There was carefully concealed passion on the way Bucky scooted closer, his fingertips brushing over Steve’s pulse. It was Bucky who took matters in his own hands as he pulled Steve to his feet, their lips never parting, as he guided him over to the bed. 

Caresses were exchanged and Steve was itching to feel bare skin, wanting to see Bucky in all his glory. And while Bucky didn’t have an issue helping Steve get rid of his own sweater, the moment Steve tugged gently on his henley, his face clouded. Steve would have been fine with whatever Bucky had in mind, ready to tell him so much, when Bucky got to his feet and pulled the shirt off his body, back to Steve. 

Bucky’s left shoulder showed angry red scars, leading down his upper arm and grew more angry at the stump. They didn’t have to speak for Steve to know what Bucky was thinking, his fear of Steve’s reaction to what he finally saw without any fabric to cover. 

Steve didn’t care. He genuinely still thought Bucky perfect in his eyes, but words aren't enough. Would never be. Instead he reached for Bucky’s hand still holding the shirt and pulled him between his legs, making him look at him. 

The worry, the self-doubt Steve saw was heartbreaking, so he placed his lips against his stomach, kissing the tuft covered skin while keeping them locked. 

“Your choice,” Steve whispered against taught muscle, nose following the trail leading into Bucky’s pants. All he wanted was to worship the man in front of him, showing him how desirable he was in his eyes, so he kept his hands and lips on him, feeling him easing against him with each caress and kiss. 

And a choice Bucky made as he joined Steve back in bed again, their clothes quickly discarded and giving Steve the upper hand as he straddled Bucky’s strong thighs.

Steve took a good moment to take him in, giving Bucky’s face his full attention. His smile twitched at the scratching sound as he caressed Bucky’s jawline, knowing how the stubble would feel against his skin. But his aim was a spot on Bucky’s neck. Leaning down, nose trailing along his pumping pulse, he heard the hitch in Bucky’s breathing. The idea of being allowed to explore Bucky’s body like this excited him and he felt himself getting impatient as his hands followed the broad expanse of Bucky’s chest, the feel of soft hair against his palms, the dips between his muscles.

For the next minutes, all Steve did was take his sweet time getting acquainted with Bucky. His fingers trailed from scar to freckle, releasing a little chuckle when he found a particular spot that made Bucky shudder. So far he was remarkably pliant, letting Steve roam freely without any complaint, only small sighs and deep breaths falling from his lips. All the time Bucky only watched him as Steve slowly inched his way down. Down and down and down Steve went, from Bucky’s chest to his taut stomach, taking even more care of his protruding hip bones and nuzzling against his strong thighs. When Steve flicked his eyes up, making sure Bucky was still watching him, he saw him pleading with his eyes, wishing for Steve to inch over and between his legs, taking his hard cock in his mouth. There was a wet patch of precum slowly drying in the tufts of his trail, a little twitch as Steve shifted and his breath tickled over his shaft. 

Bucky held his breath, biting down on his bottom lip and Steve loved the picture in front of him, the anticipation in those eyes of his next step. 

Steve watched Bucky pressing his head into the pillows, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. He wanted this man so badly, it felt like physical pain despite him being allowed to touch him as he wanted to. Showing how appreciative he was, he finally had mercy with him, reaching for the thick shaft resting on his stomach and slowly lifting it up. The touch was light, but enough to send a tremor through Bucky’s body and Steve heard him inhaling through his teeth. 

His fingers danced up and down his length, thumb flicking over the tip, spreading the clear liquid over the flushed head. When he leaned down, hot breath tickling along the shaft and his fingers, he only lapped at the slit, a quick stroke of tongue. And then another. And another. His lips wrapped around the girth, nipping on him just so gently, leaving a thread of spit between Bucky’s leaking cock and his lips as he pulled away. 

“Steve--” 

Nothing ever sounded as sweet as his name coming from Bucky’s lips in such a beseeching way. Even more so as Steve let his eyes wander up his body and found him slowly coming apart underneath him. Nudged Bucky’s legs further apart, settling comfortable between strong, quivering thighs he kept mouthing along his throbbing dick, slick from saliva and precum. Not once did Steve’s gaze leave Bucky’s face, the way his eyes fluttered shut just for him to force them back open again, wanting to see what Steve was doing to him. 

Bucky’s eyes widened as he dragged his mouth down his shaft to his balls, nipping on the skin. Apparently, though, Bucky had enough wits left in him to reach for something in his nightstand and a moment later a small bottle landed next to Steve. When he pulled off his cock, looking at the lube Bucky so graciously provided, he released a small moan and he pressed his own hard dick against the mattress. 

All too gladly did he pop the bottle open and found himself growling when he found Bucky spreading his legs further, giving him even better access to his hole. Settling back into his position, fingers slick, Steve slipped his middle finger inside Bucky. He watched him carefully, seeing him getting used to the intrusion and to make it even better for him, he took his cock back into his mouth, lips stretching around his girth in a satisfying way. 

For a moment Bucky’s whole body tensed, ass clamping down on Steve’s finger. The moan leaving his body sent waves of pleasure through Steve, pleased with the reaction he could elicit. It took him a moment to figure out a rhythm, how to bob his head while moving his finger in and out of Bucky, but once he did, once Bucky allowed himself to get lost in the ministration, the room was filled with moans and curses. Steve’s own cock was trapped between his body and the mattress, rutting against it for some relief. 

Apparently Bucky wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t notice the movement and when he forced his eyes open, looking down his body to find Steve sucking his dick, he breathed out, “I want you.” 

Three so simple words and they meant so much to Steve. Slowly, deliberately, Steve pulled his lips from Bucky, letting the weight slap back against his belly as he withdrew his finger. For a lack of a tissue, he used the sheets cleaning his digit before crawling up Bucky’s bodybody. His blue eyes were glowing as they found Steve’s, following his every movement when Steve licked into his mouth. Steve rolled his hips, their cocks brushing against each other, again and again, their moans and pants getting louder and louder. From the corner of his eye Steve noticed the condom Bucky had got out of the drawer, but Bucky’s hand firmly planted on his ass, the way he rolled his hips up to meet Steve’s, he knew there was always another time. This right here felt perfect. Bucky felt perfect. Even more so when Steve felt him falling apart underneath him as he sucked on his tongue and then feeling Bucky’s cum on his skin, soon joined by Steve’s. 

They were a mess. Sticky from semen and sweat, but hearing Bucky’s elated chuckle as he kept him close, kept kissing him, was all Steve needed for this blissful moment. 

Yet somehow, somewhere, a bit of practical thinking kicked in and Steve felt for the tissue box he had seen on the nightstand. It wasn’t perfect but would do for now as he cleaned their bodies, just enough for them to allow them to feel comfortable. 

Lying all cuddled up after catching their breath, holding Bucky in his arms, Steve knew this was it. There was no doubt in his mind he had found his home in Bucky. To look Bucky into his eyes, to see the bliss, it made touching him so much more thrilling, seeing what his hands did to Bucky. Even now Steve’s hands were constantly gliding over Bucky’s skin, reveling in the warmth of him and enjoying the little kisses placed on his chest as well. 

“Your tattoos,” Bucky mumbled, voice a bit hoarse and Steve grinned knowing it was him turning it this way. 

“What about them?”

Steve shuddered as Bucky nuzzled against his jawline, dragging his lips over his pulse. “Tell me about them.”

When Bucky’s lips found the one on his neck, tracing the letters Brooklyn, Steve stretched a bit to give him better access. “Guess I don’t have to tell you much about the New York related ones,” he mumbled, eyes closed and far too content for his own good. 

“The microscope is for Abraham. The globe and compass about always finding your way home. And the one on my chest is actually a portrait of my mom.”

Steve didn’t expect for Bucky to move away from him so suddenly and he was actually too lazy to open his eyes, but when he did he immediately started laughing at Bucky’s shocked expression. 

“What?”

“Your mom watched us. In a way.”

“I can wear a shirt from now on,” Steve suggested, still laughing. 

When Bucky’s eyes flicked from Steve’s to his chest, the shock changed into understanding. At first Steve didn’t understand, but when Bucky leaned down, nose brushing along his sternum - along his old scar - it clicked. 

“No. No shirt,” Bucky said quietly before resting his head on Steve’s chest. “Just have to get used to those watchful eyes.” 

Steve’s fingers threaded through Bucky’s hair, a content smile on his lips. He didn’t mention how the tattoo wouldn’t look as pretty anymore once he had to undergo the second surgery. While it was a matter they needed to discuss, this moment was too peaceful and kind to both of them.


	7. Epilogue

Steve’s life wouldn’t be his own if everything would go according to plan. While the surgery was successful it was the after that troubled him. A cold turned into pneumonia and while fear was a constant companion, he wasn’t alone anymore. 

Soon after their night together, he and Bucky became official quite quickly. It became even more official once Bucky told him he wanted him to move into the loft with him. At first Steve refused. He felt like he had to. Did Bucky think it was okay to do it this quickly? What would the others say? But Bucky only rolled his eyes as he reminded Steve how he was already practically living at Bucky’s place so why not making it their official safe haven. 

Natasha, Sam, and Dugan all helped while Clint gave the orders where to put what. A task he considered very important. It was during this night when Bucky held Steve in his arm he told him it would also be a lot more convenient once the surgery took place. 

Together they flew to Ohio, Bucky being the one updating the others who were patiently waiting for news. And it all looked good until they returned home. From one day to the next Steve felt tired and exhausted and Bucky even had to call an ambulance in the middle of the night when it got harder for him to breathe. The moments Steve was lucid, he kept apologizing for causing so much trouble to everyone involved, all of them rotating to stay with him until he could go home. And even then their support never stopped. 

What had been Steve’s biggest fear, being a nuisance, had become reality. Just with the difference how everyone around him not once treated him like one. Natasha kept bugging him, pushing him as far as she was sure he could go by doing some exercise, same for Sam who - in a quiet moment with no one else around - told him how happy it made him to see Steve and Bucky together. 

“So don’t die on him, you hear me. I’ll come and haunt you.”

“Well, maybe I might be the one haunting you in that case.” 

It earned him a good slap to the shoulder, but Steve was sure it was worth it at the face Sam made at that. 

The few moments Steve was alone - meaning no one was sitting right beside his bed but rather somewhere in the loft and keeping Bucky company - he couldn’t believe his luck. Couldn’t believe the people around him, the support each of them gave him without a word of complaint. His hand rested on his chest; the last bandaid had been taken off two days before by his GP who complimented him on the good job the surgeon did on his scar. 

Steve, still a bit groggy from being sick for so long, didn’t fully understand what the doctor was talking about. When he got a mirror to see, he was speechless. Despite how tired and exhausted he was from the trip to the doctor, he immediately called Dr Jeong when he arrived at home who laughed and told him he had waited for a call from him. Steve had to explain his condition which worried Dr Jeong, but was glad to hear he had people who took care of him. 

“The scar--”

“You mentioned how important the tattoo was to you. I hope it doesn’t look too bad.”

It was far from perfect, not how it was before the surgery, but Steve could tell how much care they had taken by sewing him back up again.

So while he lay in his bed, thinking about how blessed he was, hand resting on his mother’s counterfeit, he was sure she had sent each and everyone of these wonderful people in his life. Starting with Abraham. 

With Abraham in mind and Christmas quickly approaching, Steve was glad to find he was getting better every day. While still a tiny bit exhausted most of the time, it became quite obvious for everyone around where the Christmas party this year would take place. 

And so - once again - with the help of the others, the loft soon turned into a Winter Wonderland with a huge tree Dugan got them, dozens of fairy lights courtesy of Natasha, and a ton of cookies made with love by Sam’s parents. 

“We should have taken Dugan up on the offer to celebrate Christmas at the pub. Just look at all the stuff. We’ve to clean it,” Steve mused as he watched Clint putting down another bowl of food on the table they had placed at the far end wall of the loft closest to the kitchen. In fact, Steve was sure he could see the table actually bending under the weight. Apart from Natasha, Sam, and Clint, Sam’s parents were invited as well as Clint’s new girlfriend. Abraham had been invited as well, but as his work could be quite unexpected at times, he didn’t make any promises. 

So when everyone was scattered around the loft - talking, laughing, eating - and the doorbell rang, Steve immediately knew who it was. Despite Bucky’s reminder to take it easy, Steve hurried to the door and lit up like the Christmas tree behind him when he found Abraham behind it. Abraham, wearing a Santa’s hat and an actual sack with goods. 

“Frohe Weihnachten, Steven,” he grinned as he pulled him into his arm. It had taken a lot of convincing and assurance on Steve’s part for Abraham to stay in Washington during his sick time, so having him here now, with his best friends and his boyfriend, it all seemed too good to be true. 

Well, there was one more thing and while Abraham and Steve stood at the door, still hugging and talking in a hushed tone, voices became louder and Steve heard the sound of three pairs of footsteps. 

“You sure it’s here, Becca? I feel like a burglar,” the voice of a woman said followed by the chuckle of a man. 

“It is here. Steve said we should just come through the pub and then up the stairs and oh--”

Peeking around Abraham’s shoulder, Steve thought he might burst at the sight in front of him. 

While bed ridden, Steve wanted to do something for his friends. All of them. And while it was easy with Natasha, Sam and even Clint - all of them having done so much for him - Bucky had been his miracle and he wanted to give him the world. And Sam was all too willing to help. 

Three phone calls while Bucky was distracted later and the Barnes family had been contacted, invited, and prepared for the craziness that was their little chosen family. 

Seeing them now in front of him, Steve couldn’t believe this was his life. Despite everything he had been through - the bullying, the insecurities, the loss of his mother, his health - he had found true happiness. Things wouldn’t be easy, at least not all the time, but he knew they could do it. They all could push through it. Together. 

Pulling Abraham to the side, arm still steady around him, he pointed with his head inside the loft. “He is right there and has no idea.”

Rebecca was the first to step inside, followed by what Steve was sure were Bucky’s parents. For a moment there was silence when the nearly strangers set foot into the loft, but then he heard Bucky’s voice. Shaky and unbelieving, so young and vulnerable, “Mom?”

“Oh you stupid boy.” The words were spoken with so much love, Steve felt himself choking up and leaned into Abraham’s hug as his arm tightened around Steve’s smaller frame. 

He tried to see what was happening, but it was hard to see through the tears, even when Abraham guided him inside. Hugs were given, tissues were passed around, and drinks were spilled. 

It was the beginning of his happily ever after. 

**End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My biggest gratitude goes out to [Blessyourdoubts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessyourdoubts/pseuds/blessyourdoubts) for jumping in last minute to help me with this story. Thank you so much! You've no idea how grateful I am for your time and make it possible for me to finish this in time.


End file.
